Last night I saw The Black Dub at The Opera House. Amazing band, amazing music, packed attentive crowd. I became thoroughly lost in the moment. Yet at some point I felt chilly goosebumps when Trixie was singing - the last time I saw her father Chris Whitley before he passed was on the same stage, standing in the same place. She moves in the same twitching, snaky way. Eerie.
I tried not to think about it, just falling into the waves of her unusual soaring voice. But then she picked up a guitar for one song. Chills. She plays so much like a slightly toned down version of her father - liquid left hand, attacking with the right, the jerky right shoulder and twitch-leaning into the mic - it was downright spooky. Yet reassuring that his musical legacy lives on in her, and that his talent has been passed along, not disappeared.
It got me thinking on the subway this morning. How much have I assimilated from my parents? How much do I not even realize I have absorbed? I like to make things, construct things, design better, more efficient, and different things... this comes from my father. Sometimes I am super perky and overly concerned about everyone's health, which is my mother. I wonder what else there is. Since my dad is no longer here there is no way of studying him to look for clues, and my mother lives quite far away so I don't see her very often.
Puzzles. Questions. Hmmm. Interesting.
For your reference, here is Chris: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNtUvbtIwl0
And here is Trixie: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkKYxvF39D4