Meg Hutchinson Performs at a House Party

When we received an invitation from our friends Tim and Kathy, in Livonia, to attend a performance of folk singer Meg Hutchinson at their house, we were intrigued.  I'd never heard of her, and quickly listened to some samples on her website.  It's clear why she's not mainstream - her songs are very contemplative and have complicated, rather than catchy, lyrics.  But her vocal quality reminded me a bit of Mary Chapin Carpenter (whom I love, and with whom Charlie actually went to high school).  We liked the idea of helping support a "struggling artist" (we figured if she were really successful, she wouldn't be performing in someone's living room for $18 a person?), and we'd never attended a house concert before, so we went. Tim has been mesmerized by her ever since hearing her songs years ago on the radio, and he knew her booking agent, so asked him if Meg would do a house concert.  After an initial negative reply and pushing a bit, Meg performed at Tim's a few years ago on her way from one relatively nearby gig to another.  As luck would have it, she was in the general vicinity (on her way to Marlboro, NY, wherever that is!) again this year.

About 40 of us crammed in to attend the performance (including, coincidentally, a fellow singer from my choral group, Concentus - Helvi's husband had recently traveled with Kathy and some high school students to Nicaragua to build a school there!).  Meg was charming, and explained after our applause to her first song, that her newly rescued pit bull, who was tied to a beam in the room and nervously wouldn't let her out of his sight, would sleep through the performance if we didn't interrupt it with clapping.  She asked us, instead, to use the deaf clapping sign, which we did from then on.  Not only did her dog remain calm, but the silence between her singing and patter seemed in keeping with the spell of her songs.

Most of her lyrics are deeply personal - based on experiences or dreams - they are little stories of her life.  One particularly haunting song, though, called "Gatekeeper," was inspired by Kevin Briggs, a California Highway Patrol officer, who saved hundreds of lives on the Golden Gate Bridge.  Apparently, when confronting a potential suicide victim, he would ask the person two questions:
- How are you feeling?
- What are your plans for tomorrow?
It was an odd basis for a song, but had a very positive message.

Meg also read from a book of poems she wrote as part of a challenge by her mother during an April National Poetry Month several years ago.  In one lovely poem, about yesterdays and letting go, you could sense the possible lyrics of an as-yet un-composed song.

Her simple piano or guitar accompaniment meant that the listener could really focus on her intricate lyrics. And the intimate setting meant that we could really connect with her personally. Charlie and I reluctantly headed back to Rochester at the break between sets (after buying the CD containing "Gatekeeper").  I would have loved to hear the rest of her performance, but we had our own nervous dog at home, plus Daylight Savings Time to contend with.