How could you not like a singer who has a song about a town in Washington in which she yodels and shares what living in exactly the middle of nowhere is like? I’d never heard of Kate McDonnell until exactly two nights before she came to Mother’s last Friday. I suspect that some RPI students may not know that Mother’s is a folk-based music venue right inside the Union which hosts various acts on a regular basis. The only disappointment about my Friday evening was the crowd (or lack thereof)—there were no more than 15 people at Mother’s.
I had recently been growing bored of my musical collection and jumped at the opportunity to hear something new and hopefully refreshing. McDonnell surpassed my expectations, with alternately serious and hysterical lyrics. One of her songs spoke about her opposing feelings on the U.S. involvement in Iraq, while another gently poked fun at the lifestyle of simple, small town living.
When I first developed an interest in music, I had read an article where singer Paula Cole specified that she “love[s] music that has a big fat bottom.” I’ve since developed a musical rubric based on Cole’s quote, and McDonnell’s abilities would fall into that “big fat bottom” category. Her singing varied from high to low notes, folk richness, and even yodels that left the few watchers in the audience wanting more. Her percussive, rhythmic (upside-down and backwards) acoustic guitar skill was outrageously complex. Every song held a different quality, whether in the actual guitar playing, singing style, or theme.
McDonnell maintained a high level of interaction with her audience (certainly the advantage of a smaller venue and turnout). The audience had the opportunity to see into the artist’s quirky, friendly personality. She conversed with the crowd, explaining how songs developed or who they were based on. She established that many of the characters in her songs stem from real people, but sometimes take on a new shape, as often “our lives are just too boring, so we (McDonnell and co-writer, Anne Lindley) make up people—their lives are very exciting.” When she shared her blues-flavored song about a plumber as probably the only song ever written about a plumber, she quickly corrected herself and recited a plumber’s commercial jingle she’d seen numerous times in her Baltimore, Mar., hometown. She explained that she and her sister were “raised by the TV ... and two other people,” drawing from the tiny audience peals of laughter.
I’ve often heard complaints from fellow students that there is nothing to do at RPI, or that the campus is essentially lame. There were quite a number of things going on at or involving RPI this weekend (rugby games, UPAC events, step competitions), and I think it’s safe to say that the turnout to these kinds of events is never as high as participants would like it to be. McDonnell is not particularly popular with people of our age and that definitely accounts for such a low turnout to her performance. However, she is well-recognized within the folk community and appears to have a fairly dedicated following in that group. Similarly, Mother’s is not the trendiest location on campus, reducing a low turnout to an embarrassing one. All excuses aside, how are students (avid music followers or otherwise) ever supposed to develop new tastes or be exposed to something outside of their comfort zone if they don’t branch out occasionally?
Mother’s promotes off-mainstream musicians almost weekly, and is just one of the areas that RPI students don’t explore throughout their stint in Troy. As a senior, it was my first time attending a musical performance at Mother’s and I think that from a social standpoint, it is one of my greatest regrets that I did not attend more often. Luckily, I found a fabulous singer and songwriter the only time I did go, and I hope to catch the last few weekends of performances before my time at RPI is up. I recommend you do the same.
