If I do say so myself, I did a terrific job of ignoring a certain American election this year. I was at my dance class on a November evening and during a break, I overheard a couple of fellow dancers talking about two American politicians. I wondered "Why are they bringing that up?" and then I suddenly connected the dots and realized that oh yeah, today's the big day that Americans vote. (I knew they were going to vote sometime, just not the exact day.)
Ignoring the media/social media coverage of the election, with the exception of a very small number of trusted cultural commentators who prioritize depth rather than hot takes, was a conscious, straightforward choice on my part. Maybe some people will disagree with this decision. "Oh, but the outcome of the election will affect your life (somehow)!" I don't deny it will. But is there a single thing that I will do differently in my day-to-day routine based on the outcome? Nothing that I can think of. Also, there are an infinite number of things outside of my control that also affect my life, and I don't spend massive amounts of time reading about most of them and thinking and wondering. So I don't see any reason to do so for other countries' elections either.
Anyway. During the period of time I was ignorant of the fact Americans were going to vote on a particular day, I bought tickets to see a talented and well-known Canadian musician. By well-known I mean she has been performing for several years and sold out a theatre of 300 seats. If I had known that the vote was happening on a certain day, it may have influenced my decision to buy tickets, which are not cheap, not even for a small show like this one. I can't say for certain. But I did not know and so I did not think about anything except that it was likely to be a really good show.
Once the election happened, I stopped ignoring the media because I was curious to read the post-election commentary. Maybe this was a mistake on my part. I find it fascinating how people can witness the same event and come up with completely different interpretations. So I started reading, mainly for entertainment purposes. But what I read still affects me; I end up forming opinions, thinking one person is interpreting more correctly and another less so, and then I start thinking about why. Perhaps in hindsight I should have just stayed under my rock.
We made a date night out of the concert, which happened a few days after the election. In the days leading up, I realized the implications of the timing of the concert. I said to my husband over dinner: "I hope there isn't a lot of commenting on the election." (I phrased it a little less delicately). Then I back-pedaled at bit. "I hope there isn't more than one reference to the election."
The reason I brought this up is that unfortunately, based on the sort of concert this is, the style of music, the type of venue, the gender of the artist, and finally from following her on Facebook several years ago, I am quite confident of the politics of the artist and most of her audience. Both from personal experience of the demographic who would attend the concert with me, and from statistical evidence, I knew how the artist and most of her audience would react to the results of the 2024 American election. To sum it up, they absolutely detest the president-elect.
I had looked forward to a cozy, feel-good concert and I wasn't disappointed. The artist sang a mix of popular standards and also several of her own excellent compositions. Her stage presence and connection with the audience was warm and animated. During the second set in particular, she did a couple of her original songs that were only guitar and voice. I couldn't stop the tears welling up in my eyes and awkwardly running down my face and making spots on my glasses. I recalled as well that I first discovered this artist's music around the time I met my husband. She also met her husband around that time. So when she sang the love songs she wrote for him early in their relationship, I remembered how I felt toward my husband when we first met. When she sang more recent songs, about marriage and children and the tender but not always romantic aspects of family life, I recognized those feelings too. I think it's important to note that enjoying music requires vulnerability and openness. When I listen to music, I am not intellectually analyzing the lyrics and the melodies and deciding to have a response. I'm just responding. This requires trust. It is more than a bit like falling in love. Giving and receiving an embrace, sharing a kiss, thrilling inwardly to a song: it's not so different.
It's also not political, at least not in this context, not with this style of music. And indeed, there were zero political songs, zero mentions of politics or any current events in both sets.
Not until the last song of the last set.
The last song was a humorous standard, in the style of a roast. And at one point, toward the end of the song, without naming names, the artist inserted several references toward a certain president-elect that suddenly made the song all about him. Oh, she got some loud laughs and cheers, you better believe it. I sat awkwardly thinking, right. I did say I'd be okay with one election reference. I said that. I did. There was always going to be at least one.
Did it ruin the evening for me? On one hand, that seems like an exaggeration. I applauded. I rose immediately for the standing ovation. But now, along with remembering this evening for the tender moments when I related to the artist's songs, when I sat with the audience around me in mutual appreciation of a beautiful voice and a sensitive talent, I'm going to remember politics, demographics, and the American election. Which memory is going to stand the test of time? Unfortunately, I suspect it will be the negative memory. This is because of negativity bias and because my social and media environments are probably still more likely to reinforce political partisanship than they are to reinforce appreciating beautiful music.
The encore song was a cover of Leonard Cohen's Suzanne, sung in French and English. Again, it was beautifully done, but the romance was gone, and I was looking forward to the end of the date. When we stepped out of the multi-million dollar performance centre (many millions of which were funds from various government levels), I noticed again other things that my husband and I had discussed over dinner. There were homeless people and their possessions everywhere. Lines from "Suzanne" ran through my mind, modified on the fly. Suzanne takes you down, to a theatre near the encampments. You can hear the liberals virtue signal, you can see the shopping carts and blankets. You didn't participate in art, said a voice in my head. You participated in snobbery.
There are a lot of serious issues in the world. A lot of different people, who don't think anything like me, or the audience in that theatre, or the five (on a good day) readers of my blog. I'm pretty sure we need aspects of all of their perspectives and value systems. I'm sure none of us knows everything. I'm sure that all of us can be, have been, and will be wrong about something or somebody. Someday we're going to find that out, and maybe that day is today. I'm pretty sure that what I saw and heard at the end of my date night isn't making the world a better place, whatever else it's doing.
So, what to do. This is my blog and it is not about making the world a better place, which I have no qualifications to do anyway. But I am here to talk myself through a few things.
I will not contact the artist I'm talking about or confront her. I have not named her here and see no reason to. And to give her credit, she said what she said in a clever and witty manner. It could have been much worse. I hope she continues to have a great career and make music and bring people happiness.
All the same, I think it's sad, and foolish when people try to politicize every experience, every space, every gathering, every relationship. There should be places where we can meet and focus on a higher value than what politician we like or dislike in the moment. I know people say that they believe they have to "speak out" because "I have a platform." In other words, because somebody somewhere might be listening to you, you need to take a stand on what you think is right. Even if the reason people are listening to you has nothing to do with politics and nobody is expecting you to have political answers. I disagree with "I must speak out because I have a platform." Making everything political cheapens relationships. It damages the trust that allowed me to be open to this artist when she was singing her songs. When people turn an encounter that should be focused on music, or art, or friendship, or family into an encounter about political loyalties, it's like a friend asking for a lunch date and then making you a pitch to buy a time share. Or a date pausing mid-embrace to ask who you voted for. Does anybody like that?
Sigh.
Will I buy tickets to this artist's concerts again? I don't know. Maybe I will, because her music really is lovely and resonates with many things I love about life. Perhaps I will just avoid going to concerts around elections. Trouble is, I don't actually think things are going to get better. I don't think people are going to get more reasonable and patient with each other and more likely to embrace values and experiences which connect rather than divide them. I would love to be wrong about that.
I can deepen my own commitment to not reading partisan political material. I'm pretty hard-core already (ignoring a whole election!) but I guess I can be even more thorough. I think Canada is going to have an election next year; I can't wait to have no clue about that.
I can stive to be more cynical, more analytical and less open and vulnerable when I go to entertainment events. Sigh.
I can further distance myself from anything resembling high culture or popular entertainment. Phew.
I can continue to explore the Christian perspectives that explicitly make Jesus and his teachings the highest value, not humans and their political opinions and solutions.
I'm still not Christian, but I have to say, I'm hemorrhaging confidence in everything except the last option.
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