I rarely play my oldest songs. Probably because they just seem…old? I’m not really sure. I think I don’t play them because I’ve grown, and I have different things I want to write about.
But this past week, I played a private show in Woodstock, Illinois, and the person who booked me requested my old stuff. Some of the songs were more than 20 years old. I had to relearn them.
I called my oldest musician friend and sidekick—Gregg Ostrom—and we pulled together a set that felt like going back in time. I had almost forgotten how some of the songs went. I didn’t expect to like playing those tunes.
But I loved it. Belting out those songs felt like spending a night with old friends. Some of them hit me with such force that I felt like I was back in my Chicago apartments, writing into the wee hours of the morning. I felt the heartbreak I was trying to mend in my 20's. I felt the anger I had back then, and the joy. It was a therapeutic night.
It was like happy time traveling for me. And it helped me remember that younger Emily was pretty alright.
Reader, if you're like me, you might look back to older times and cringe. Maybe you regret decisions. But if there's a way--through art or music or anything else--where you can not only forgive your younger self, but also enjoy your younger self? Well that's about as big of a release as they come.
Wishing you deep self-love this week. I'll see you next Monday. -Em
