I'm enchanted by live music in churches

or why we need the magical messiness of live artists in our carefully curated world

Lately, I’ve been captivated by live music. And it’s importance as part of the human experience.

I love music, although I can’t remember lyrics or the names of most artists to save my life (as my sisters would tell you) and I am not very musical, I am pretty stubborn. I took violin lessons and practiced for an hour a day for four years as a child before finally surrendering to the fact I wasn’t getting better. At all. I may have shed a few tears along the way trying to learn to read music and building callouses on my fingertips but on the positive side, I did fall in love with my teacher’s cat (I don’t typically like cats, but this was a rescue tabby and so small and affectionate, you couldn’t help but fall in love with her).

Fast forward 14 years and I found myself in Nashville recently listening to a performance by Medium Build in the Ryman, a famous church that’s been converted to a concert venue. The church is set up with a semi-circle of pews around the stage, and a balcony above it. There is something enchanting about the musty smell of the building and making our way down a tiny aisle to squeeze into a ramrod-straight-backed pew at the front of the balcony overlooking the stage.

I like to imagine all the musicians and preachers who have poured out their hearts here, some people dozing off during sermons or listening in rapt attention, thundering applause, an unseen tear.

We had come to see Joy Oladokun, a fantastic artist I have loved for years, and Medium Build was opening for her.

I’d never heard of him before that night. And then, there he was, long-legged and wearing shorts and a introducing himself with a disarming sense of humor and a voice that made the entire building vibrate. He was so present to his music it was almost painful — I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed that level of vulnerability and full-body-immersion from a singer before.

It was more like the music was being pulled out of him than a performance.

He talked a lot about his journey with mental health and being sober now and recovering from church, which we all laughed over a little bit, being in this church-turned-concert-venue.

His honesty was breathtaking.

In a world where most things are carefully curated and edited and polished to look just so, it was refreshing to be with someone so human. He wasn’t particularly interested in appearing cool or casual or impressing anyone.

He was there to bare his soul and let us partake in his offering.

I also recently had the privilege of seeing the legend Patti Smith in a church in Charleston. (Something about these sacred old spaces and these musicians haunts me.)

She came for a spontaneous pop-up event during the Spoleto Festival and it was extra fun because it was a mystery event, so the artist wasn’t announced until the day-of and…

[This is a sneak-peek of the first letter going out members of The Letter Club this weekend! You can join here and get your very own in-the-mail paper letter every month! With a real stamp and everything.]