Music Is NOT a Waste of a Good Mind

A Professional Music Career in Two Chapters

by Linda Marks

Music was my first language as a little girl.

I didn’t talk until I was three, but as a toddler, I would toddle towards any piano I could find and start writing music intuitively. Music was my native language and it always came straight from the heart. Unfortunately, I grew up in a family where my father did not support my passion for music. His mantra was “music is a waste of a good mind.” And he repeated it countless times, hoping he could, “beat the passion for music out of me.” He was afraid. His mother, my grandmother, had been an opera singer, and she could not make a living. He was terrified I would not be able to make a living either and some horrible fate would befall me.

Sadly, all his berating and dissuading only built shame inside of me. Trying to suppress a child’s deepest passion is harmful to their heart and soul. I learned I would have to both feel and express my passion privately. And any steps that would take me closer to my passion were ones I would have to done all alone without family support.

So, I took bold steps for a child to pursue my passion. I saved up all my money so that when I was 11 I could buy a nylon stringed guitar. When I was 13 I had saved up enough money for my own piano and asked for a ride to the store so I could buy my piano. Though my parents relented, and I bought my piano, my father relegated it to the too often freezing, two season porch. I had to play it when no one was home.

One might have hoped that my father might have noticed how industrious and grounded I was.

How many 11 year olds or 13 year olds find ways to work and earn all the money needed to buy a guitar and a piano on their own? Fear is a powerful force and can be blinding. My father’s hurt still broke my heart.

I wrote my first publicly performed piece for my 8th grade class’ graduation. I played the guitar, sang lead, and my entire class joined in on the chorus. And in high school I sang in the concert choir, took voice lessons with an insecure music teacher who was intimidated by a 13 year old writing ragtime, and taught a classmate who had been told she was “tone deaf” how to match pitch and sing. I surely did not want her love of music or self-esteem to take the hit mine had.

I found myself battling and overcoming obstacles outwardly, and helping others who were crumbling under the weight on others’ judgments. Internally, I was carrying the wounds of a scared, cruel father and a nasty, sadistic vocal teacher. I wished I could just have the space, and perhaps even a little support, to do what came most naturally to me.

When I was 17, I went off to Yale, where the grand piano in my residential college front room became my special place. I spent countless hours playing, singing and writing at that piano. And in no time, I had formed a duo with a classmate, where I would write and arrange songs and she could sing harmonies. During my freshman year, she, I, and two other musically inclined classmates founded Yale’s 3rd women’s a cappella singing group that is still there today.

Queen of the Angels - Linda Marks — Queen of the Angels – Linda Marks

To my father’s horror, I majored in music, and in spite of being an intuitive, self-taught, dyslexic musicians, I graduated with honors and distinction in my major. I was lucky that the chairman of the music department was a songwriter, in the midst of writing a musical that would go on to win a Tony on Broadway. So, I felt that I had someone in my singer songwriting corner.

After college, I began the first chapter of my professional music career, writing music in the middle of my graduate school classes, and playing the piano in the university faculty club at every opportunity. I started playing gigs in the Boston/Cambridge area, played live on radio shows (back in those days radio stations actually had real acoustic pianos) and started working on my first album I found myself building my first artist-alliance group, something I did organically and would continue to do for the rest of my life. I also met a wonderful met a musical soul sister at the laundromat, who would become a lifelong friend.

The album got great reviews. My music soul sister and I opened for a nationally known act at the city’s premiere folk club. And while the money was still scarce, the joy was abundant. I was a shy introvert inside, but the prospect of sharing my music and touching others’ hearts gave me the courage to stretch outside my comfort zone. Music helped me grow.

My world came crashing down when my collaborator decided that performing took too much out of her, and she needed to stop. There were many magical things about being a duo – from being able to write and sing harmonies, to collaborating on songwriting. Perhaps the most magical part was having a comrade and best friend who shared my passion. When she stepped away, the introvert in me felt the exhaustion of all it took to perform solo. My once joyful first chapter closed. I had to focus on making a living, and ultimately became a single mom with no child support. And then I was in the middle of the sandwich of parenting my son and caring for a mother with Alzheimers. A couple decades went by.

There was no room for the music inside of me to peak its head up from the deep dungeon of my thwarted soul. And it hurt. But I was just one person with a lot of responsibility. And I did what I had to do.

I started creeping towards my second chapter when my son was ten, musical himself, and pushing me to join a very special choral group. He and I attended rehearsals together. I got some solos, and so did he. And it was a very special time. Unfortunately, before a concert, some of the adult in the choral group made some nasty, unwelcoming comments about my son’s attire, and something broke. We were all supposed to wear something with a touch of color to highlight our group look. The adults were wearing pins, neckties and scarves. My son had a very special baseball cap from the Montel Williams show, where I had made an appearance for my other career. It has bright orange letters, and the president of the choral group had given it his thumbs up seal of approval. But the joy was not shared by the trash talking adults we encountered. It marked the end of my son’s involvement in the choral group, and paved the way for my exit stage left.

I tried to start finding places to sing, write and play in between the cracks of my work, parenting and mother care responsibilities. But I would take one step forward and then two steps back. This dance continued until 15 years ago, when my mother’s Alzheimer’s progressed, and then she passed on.

I made a commitment to myself that when my mother died, I would grant myself permission to give my music 1000% of my heart. And that promise I have kept. My 16th studio album has just been released. I’ve written all the material for the 17th and the foundational tracks will be recorded in Nashville beginning tomorrow (as I write this).

I have won countless awards for my music and songwriting, enjoyed the privilege and embraced the responsibility of being a Voting Member of the Recording Academy, founded more artist alliance groups, created a house concert series dedicated to building community through music and the arts, and exponentially grown my joy.

The Silence of the Stars - Linda Marks — The Silence of the Stars – Linda Marks

I still cannot make a living from my music. Awards don’t translate into dollars. I work long hours day and night at my two professions – one to earn the money to allow me to do the other. But my soul is full. People tell me I look younger than my age. My energy is vital. And my good mind is sharp as a tack to complement the depth of my good heart. The title song of my 15th studio album, The Silence of the Stars, was written for my father. It is the story of a little girl and her passion for music and the piano. The song is about the heroine’s journey that little girl, who is now me, followed to let the music that lived inside or was waiting to be birthed stay alive. Having come so far and accomplished so much, the little girl asks her father, “if you listened would you be proud of me? Could you even let me know?”

But ultimately, it does not really matter. In grammar school I wrote a jazzy song called “My Music Is Me,” and that title is the anthem for my life. I can think of no better use of a good mind and a deep inspired heart than to follow my passion for music. And that is what I have committed to doing for the rest of my hopefully very long life.

I would like to close with a message from my heart to yours: If you have a passion, it is imperative that you follow it. If people try to dissuade you or tell you it is impractical, remember it is their fear talking. To live a healthy, meaningful life, we need to be who we are. Creative callings do not have an expiration date! It takes courage to follow your heart, but the world deeply needs what you have to bring. – Linda Marks