As a boy in a suburb of Cleveland and then later Kansas City, one of my favorite activities was that of adventurism. Sure, the neighborhood swimming pool or a good game of kick-the-can would suffice to soak up many otherwise idle childhood hours, but nothing drew me in like the prospect of discovering an uncharted pond, a new patch of woods, or some other youthful empire. Off we went on our BMX bicycles toward the fringes of our neighborhood, with backpacks chock full of essential supplies just in case any malevolent entity dared rear its head (muskrats beware!). On the surface, our adventures were geographical concerns. In truth, though we lacked the wisdom to realize it then, we were really searching for that tingle which wraps one’s spirit when a challenged unknown grudgingly reveals itself.

One of my favourite individuals, of that small group I consider friends, will soon be embarking on an adventure of her own, moving thousands of miles away to teach in New Zealand. My first thought? “Damn! All the cool and interesting people I have the privilege of knowing end up moving away.” Figuring there must be a better explanation for this phenomenon than a curse set upon me by someone I pissed off in a past (or perhaps present) lifetime, I began to explore other possibilities. In a short time, a new and more sensible hypothesis synthesized. It is based on the following arguments: 1) cool people dig adventures, 2) travel is often a prerequisite for adventure, which leads us to 3) cool people travel. Case closed; high turnover in my social sphere probably isn’t my fault. Cool people travel. A big part of their magnetism is the treasure chest of experiences they hold inside, each a brick having helped build their perspectives on life, the universe, and everything.

This epiphany is very relevant to musicianship. An adventurer who enters the woods will take different paths over time, lest the journey become repetitious and not adventuresome at all. So it goes that musicians, upon entering the musical soundscape, will also choose different paths as they trek along their career paths. The reasons are the same as for the adventurer, taking the same path over and over again is boring and teaches us little. In both worlds, the excursions are sometimes met with positive revelation and other times only with the knowledge of where not to venture again. Either end state affords one a broader perspective and the aforementioned tingle from challenging an unknown. Bank both of these to your personal coolness account.

There’s an enormous universe of rhythms, harmonies, and textures that can be employed to create music. Shovel the lyrical possibilities on that heap, including every imaginable element of life to write about and every word in every dictionary to describe it, and you’ve got the musical equivalent of a super-sized Galyan’s. It’s an exciting prospect to outfit yourself with a few fresh tools for your next musical adventure. Physical gear is one possibility, but hiking down new melodic or rhythmic trails should beget more profound effects.

When plotting a course for a musical expedition, it may be valuable to check out directions other musicians have taken or are taking. An important point here is that adventures can be found in areas that others have already explored but that you have not experienced personally. Venturing into the depths of the Amazon would be an adventure for me, even though someone else may have already been there. Given the vastness of the place, there’s certainly plenty of discovery potential. The same is probably true for the Mall of America, but personal growth from this latter expedition is questionable.

Seriously though, I saw The Fruit Bats & Ryan Brunsy at the Hurricane the other night (opened for Rebecca Gates) and was intrigued by the way their sound was produced. They incorporated rhythm synthesizers, electric bass, a saxophone, and some old garage sale looking equipment including an 8 track. There was nothing particularly unique about any single element, but their combination along with strange manipulation techniques of the 8 track player (description can’t suffice here – go see for yourself) was new to me. Getting face to face with others’ musical endeavors can be an adventure in itself, but you’ll often walk away with ideas that could be incorporated into your own travels, or at least the notion that you just don’t want to go there.

Often in the past, the butterflies in my stomach fell dead to the ground if a new album from a favourite band didn’t sound like the last one I loved so much. In the context of adventurism, however, I realize that such dissimilarity should be expected and even sought out. My own musical journeys will tread over more unfamiliar territory in the future, hopefully delivering that tingle that only a challenged unknown can bestow. Cool people travel. Hope to see you along the way.

A fond farewell to Karen Love, my friend and mentor, who unknowingly providing the inspiration for this column. You’ll be missed.

--Bryan Fries
bryan@thezone.org

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