There are days when I curse being a musi­cian. I work long hours for a ridicu­lously small wage and often under crummy con­di­tions. Think about the loud­est, dirt­i­est, smok­i­est bar you have vis­ited with your pals in the last 12 months. I have prob­a­bly per­formed there, or at least some place exactly like it. In fact the word per­formed prob­a­bly needs the qual­i­fier of “tried to” before it, because like the fabled tree falling in the for­est, if you are play­ing for an audi­ence where no one is lis­ten­ing, are you really per­form­ing? I have per­formed dur­ing bar fights and pub­lic break ups straight out of a Hollywood movie. I have been knocked off stage by drunk­ards who then snatch up my micro­phone and start singing them­selves. I have per­formed while patrons surf Internet porn with their com­puter screens fac­ing all of us on stage. I have sung behind chicken wire and in front of turned on TVs big­ger than my front door. All of this in the name of being a work­ing musi­cian. Then, I have a day like today. Today was a day where I rel­ish the fact that my job is music and that I love music. Today I played for old folks. Yup, you read right. I wasn’t the open­ing act for Indigo Girls at Wolf Trap (my num­ber one folk fan­tasy!), or even head­lin­ing at the Black Cat in Washington D.C. Rounder Records didn’t call me and offer me a record deal that would make me a folk star where I could earn the big bucks like $40k a year. I played for old folks at the Staunton Senior Center. I have been play­ing as a mem­ber of a folk duo at the Staunton Senior Center for the last 8 – 9 months. We try to get there every month, but some­times we go as long as 6 weeks between gigs. The audi­ence at the Senior Center is a var­ied group of women and a sprin­kling of a few men who have lived a lot of years and have some won­der­ful expe­ri­ences to share with us. They love live music and are open to orig­i­nal tunes that we write as well as some of the tried and true coun­try & blues songs of their gen­er­a­tions. They clap along in time and join us in singing when they know the words. They request Elvis and old-​​time tunes and every­one loves ‘Stand By Me’, one of the all-​​time great love songs in my opin­ion. Best of all, they lis­ten. I left today’s gig feel­ing buoy­ant and happy. Sharing music is why I play music. It brings me closer to my vision of what folk music is sup­posed to be about – where it came from and where I hope it goes back to. It is a great honor to play this type of show and I hope when I am one of the old folks, some middle-​​aged whipper-​​snapper will come along and play music for me. _​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​
A trans­plant from California, Abbey Linfert is a pro­fes­sional musi­cian and song­writer. With a pas­sion for acoustic music & har­monies, Ms. Linfert’s roots are in old-​​time coun­try, folk and rock-​​n-​​roll. KUSP DJ Tom McCarter com­pares Abbey’s sound to that of singing great Emmylou Harris. Her song­writ­ing style has been described as a melodic storyteller’s voice filled with the emo­tions of every­day liv­ing and hon­esty. Abbey has toured both the east coast and west coasts of the United States, as well as per­form­ing in the Caribbean, the Mediterranean and North Africa. With a thousand-​​plus shows under her belt and well over 100,000 miles on the “road’, Abbey is now a res­i­dent of Staunton, VA. You can catch Abbey per­form­ing locally as a Rusticator or with her 5-​​piece blues band, Mojo Cookie and The Dough Boys fea­tur­ing Abbey, her hus­band Chris Amsler, Chris Wray, Jason Clarke and Buddy Thomas. For more infor­ma­tion, visit www.isart.com.
_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​_​ Copyright © 2008 Spinozoblue and Abbey Linfert. All rights reserved. The mate­r­ial on this site may not be repro­duced, dis­trib­uted, trans­mit­ted, cached, or oth­er­wise used, except with the prior writ­ten per­mis­sion of Spinozablue, Inc.

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