There’s this New York-based soul-pop band that I stumbled upon sometime last year. The band is called Lawrence, a name it shares with brother and sister, Clyde and Gracie Lawrence, who lead the band on keys and vocals. The video that first grabbed me is a studio version of one of their singles, “23”. In the video, Gracie and Clyde, the other six members of their band, seven guest vocalists and who knows how many video production crew are all crammed in a tiny recording studio based just outside of New York City. This little room packs an enormous sound. Gracie’s vocals are astounding. Her massive range and great control is contrasted with a wonderfully expressive face and unabashed dancing and jumping all around the studio. The sound is filled with nods to jazz, R&B and punk, but is decidedly grounded in pop. I think it was the obvious joy that everyone in the room can’t help but radiate that kept me rewatching the video again and again for a week after first seeing it. I listened to this song while I was grocery shopping, while I was on the bus, while I was cooking pasta for the family. Some mix of the off-kilter sound and the sheer enjoyment that the song encourages, hooked me.
Naturally, I shared the song. I distinctly remember my girlfriend playing it through her bluetooth speaker, as loud as it would go, while she brushed her teeth one evening. This devolved into a late-night dance party in the kitchen of her old apartment. Her, her flatmate and I jumped around in our pyjamas, faces scrunched, toothbrushes waving in the air, trying our best to yell the lyrics without spilling any foamy toothpaste onto the kitchen tiles. I also sent the song to my dad with explicit instructions to, “play it loud.” My message, if I recall correctly, was even written in all caps. He watched it and reported back that he was suitably impressed.
My dad and I send each other things we find on the internet quite a lot. I introduced him to the New York Times game, Connections, and he, in turn, informed me of the Canadian-born, billiards-like board game, Crokinole, that is enjoying a growth in popularity at the moment. A lot of what we send each other can be filed under obscure articles and brain-teasers. All the rest is music. New indie albums. Great covers. Both now, in the form of bi-weekly Spotify suggestions, and earlier, whether on the radio or played in our home on CD, my dad has always delighted in sharing music with me. He is, I believe, the single greatest influence on my music taste. It was not uncommon for the two of us to crank up the volume on old 70’s playlists while I washed the dishes and he dried them. Whenever Barry White or Stevie Wonder came on the radio (or, later, when we sought them out on music streaming platforms), my dad would dance a silly dance or point at me to do the same. He often called my name through the house to tell me that ‘my song’ was on the radio, and turned up the HiFi to the sounds of crooners like Nat King Cole or Josh Groban. Other friends and family members certainly feature in the mosaic of my music taste, but Dad’s got the monopoly.
Late Wednesday night, when I should have been sleeping, I was indulging in a new music video from Lawrence. I remembered that my dad had asked me for the name of the band a month or two ago so that he could show a friend of his their music. The friend in question is about fifteen years my dad’s senior, and has known him since Dad was my age. I’ve heard stories about my parents often going to this friend’s home as a young couple to have dinner with him and his wife. The ladies would chat in the kitchen about life and the men would go straight to the lounge to talk about music. Apparently, I danced along to his guitar playing when I was still in nappies. Not only is this old friend’s music collection vast and ever-growing, he himself is a skilled guitarist. From what I can gather, this old friend of Dad’s was quite a big influence on his taste in music. I think my dad played guitar partly because this friend did. Great joy is recalled whenever I think of that old friend of Dad’s, and music often follows.
Close to midnight on Wednesday, I was struck with a revelation: what a wonderful privilege it is to share joy through music. My whole life, Dad revelled in showing me the music he loved. Much of it, it seems, was shown to him with the same kind of passion by this friend of his. Something struck me as I sent music back the way it came, showing my dad a song I had found on YouTube, one that he enjoyed enough to show the friend that informed much of his music taste. Gracie and Clyde and everyone else in the room are so joy-filled that the song threw my friends and I into immediate, uncontrollable dancing in the kitchen. It isn’t an especially big or earth-shattering revelation, and I am certainly not the first to come upon it, but as I faded into sleep on Wednesday night, I smiled, as images of my father and I laughing and singing along to our favourite songs while we did the dishes flashed through my mind.
Seriously. You’ve gotta check the band out. Go now! If you enjoyed this journal, please subscribe.