I received an email Friday concerning a house concert by a well known player of and obscure instrument being held later this month at an acquaintances house.
I emailed the acquaintance asking about the event and received a well put together promotional flyer that would make Beethoven seem like an illiterate wanna be from hicksville in the hinterlands. Mind you this is at a private home. A fee of course is demanded in addition to buying all the musical offerings for sale cds, cassettes, videos and whatever can be sold. Anyway, it promted me to think about how different traditional music is from when and where I grew up and played after work at home with neighbors for the love of it. The finest music and musicians I've ever known, still are and they and their music isn't for sale. You don't sell your soul or the musics spirit. Those who do lose both. I wrote this poem about it.

Terel


God’s Musicians Are Blessed

The god’s and goddesses are fine
For weakened knees that kneel
But music has a better shrine
Where idols have no appeal.

Performers come with ego’s flowing
Into their mirror’s view
Lazy creatures never knowing
They have no real value.

On a golden Sabbath twilight
Honest musicians play
Their audience a starry night
The spirit of music their pay.

The god’s and goddesses are fine
As illusions fairy tales go
Give me the folk anytime
A reward far richer than show.

The work of the day is done
Time for the soul to rest
Gathered round the setting sun
God’s musicians are blessed.

Terel