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The Mortal Magic of Sharing Music

During my formative years, music sharing was all about the mixtape. Painstakingly compiling songs on a cassette for someone was one of the ultimate signs of friendship and respect. You were connecting through sound, passing along music that moved you.

Before cassettes, it was vinyl. Before vinyl, it was around a campfire or on a porch from memory. Although the era of the actual mixtape is long gone, the sentiment survives (and even thrives) digitally.

The practice of music sharing is uniquely human. To make it meaningful, it requires inspiration from a sender to pass it on, and for the receiver to give it a chance. To be open to something new. To listen. Not every new recommendation is a winner, but when something takes hold, it’s an absolute treat.

I was recently introduced to singer-songwriter Kate Wolf by fellow Iowa Writers Collaborative Roundup writer Laura Belin during our retreat to Keosauqua, and it’s a gift that keeps on giving. After strumming some original songs in the Hotel Manning lobby with Jason Walsmith and Dave Wolf, Laura asked if I was familiar with Kate Wolf (I wasn’t), noting similarities in our songs’ themes and stylizations.

Later that night, I started streaming Kate Wolf’s work, and have continued to do so almost daily, even performing her song “Here in California” this past weekend at a Mother’s Day matinee before my friends in Get Off My Lawn took the stage. In this song, she weaves a beautiful narrative between mother and daughter around the topic of love. After hearing it a few times, I felt it would be an appropriate first song on Mother’s Day celebrating the profound love and perspective moms put into this world. Here I am singing her song on Mother’s Day.

The lyrics are below and the studio recording from 1981 you can stream on Spotify here. I hope you find it as moving as I do.

“When I was young my mama told me
She said child take your time
Don't fall in love too quickly before you learn your mind

She held me round the shoulders
In a voice so soft and kind
She said love can make you happy
And love can rob you blind

Here in California fruit hangs heavy on the vines
There's no gold I thought I'd warn you
And the hills turn brown in the summertime

Now I will learn to love you
But I can't say when
This morning we were strangers
And tonight we're only friends

I'll take the time to know you
I'll take the time to see
There's nothing I won't show you
If you take your time with me

Here in California fruit hangs heavy on the vines
There's no gold I thought I'd warn you
And the hills turn brown in the summertime

There's an old familiar story
An old familiar rhyme
To everything there is a season
To every purpose there's a time

A time to love and come together
A time when love longs for a name
A time for questions we can't answer
Though we ask them just the same

Here in California fruit hangs heavy on the vines
There's no gold I thought I'd warn you
And the hills turn brown in the summertime”

Kate Wolf passed much too young—she died of Leukemia at age 44 before she had a chance to become a household name. There’s much more to her story and the well-manicured site (www.katewolf.com) that her family maintains is the perfect place to start. Her songs are tender, insightful and she is well-revered by other artists.

“There was a humanity in her singing, a generosity of spirit that never failed to move me. With Kate, the message was always — always — love. I never met a warmer-hearted person than Kate Wolf — ever.” Tom Paxton, American folk singer-songwriter.

Iconic Iowan and folk singer Greg Brown was well aware of her talent and played in the Kate Wolf Music Festival for 10 years straight between 1997-2006, even penning an original song “Kate’s Guitar” in her honor.

At the show on Sunday, I continually asked folks if they were familiar with Kate Wolf. Some were, most weren’t. Chatting before the set, bassist Jim Dunn and I discussed other artists and the importance of sharing music. Jim emphatically asked, “Is someone even a friend, if they aren’t introducing you to new music?”

Jim remarked that he has probably given away upwards of a half dozen vinyl copies of Nilsson Sings Newman over the years. He loves the album and highly recommends it. I know both artists well, but I’ve yet to sit down with this album—an oversight soon to be remedied because of Jim’s enthusiasm and advocacy.

New connections with new humans: It’s kind of everything. And music is so often the conduit. Just ask this little guy that had a bird’s eye view of Mike, Jeff, Paul, Jim, Kim and Chris doing their thing on the xBk stage in Des Moines.

To find more stories and insights across the state of Iowa, please consider following and supporting the many talented journalists and storytellers of the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative.

You can stream my original music on all platforms and at www.chipalbrightmusic.com. My next show is in my hometown of Fort Scott, KS, where I’ll be opening for Barnaby Bright as part of a fundraiser for the Bourbon County Arts Council. The show is at the Liberty Theatre which was our hometown’s movie theater when I was a child, and I’m thrilled to take the stage.

Also, here is the Zoom link for this month’s Office Lounge for paid subscribers to the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. It’s a lively conversation always held on the last Friday of the month at noon, except for November and December, and hosted by Robert Leonard.