Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Kathy Kelly. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Hi Kathy, thanks for joining us today. Do you think your parents have had a meaningful impact on you and your journey?
My folks did so much that determined the course of my life as a musician, and most of it was not intentional. I think about that all the time, how significantly we impact one another whether we intend this or not. My parents lived in a highly stressful marriage, and they both worked hard, living at the edge of their finances all the time. This might not sound like the beginning of a “what did your parents do right” answer, but it is! My parents did many things that benefitted me, some intentionally, some accidentally, and some that didn’t involve DOING, but just living their lives in relationship to music where I could see what it meant to them.
I think the thing about my parents that impacted me most as a musician was just a fact of their existence – simply put, their love of music. Neither was trained, but they both loved singing in choir, having music in the house, participating in community theater. They thought musical literacy was important because it gave you a chance to participate in these things, for community, for fun. They showed me what music was FOR. Although I’d go on to study seriously and then to ambitiously pursue a career, my relationship with music was formed in this context, as a way to connect with people. For me, it has always been easier to do this as a musician than any other way. It was also the easiest and most fun way to connect with my dad, a difficult man who was at his most relaxed, expressive, and joyous when singing.
My parents disagreed about a lot of things – a LOT – but they gave me a wide berth for exploring my own interests, and they didn’t get very involved in the details of my study. For me, that was hugely beneficial. They did get involved in supporting me – showing up for performances, driving me to rehearsals. That was no small decision for two working parents with four kids. There was space in our family for my budding musical activity, but there was also space for it to be just mine. They weren’t over my shoulder, they weren’t busy comparing me to others or trying to set the parameters for my work. Again, in a crowded family, and one that experienced a lot of conflict, they let music be a sacred space for me. Maybe it was just because neither knew enough about it to know how to push me, or because they both also found music to be a place of repose and enjoyment in their difficult lives – whatever the reason, they gave me that space in a house where space was hard to come by both physically and emotionally.
This next one doesn’t really fit into the category of “right,” but I’ll list it as a parental decision that is the most major in my life. When I was just entering elementary school in 1969, my parents moved for my dad’s job, We went from Minneapolis to Northfield, MN. My parents desired a simple, safe small town upbringing for their growing family – and they were also fleeing the integration of city schools. I didn’t know anything about that as a six-year-old, but it shaped my childhood in ways both positive and negative. The choice of Northfield, a town with two small colleges, was significant in that I became part of a community with a very large proportion of educators and musicians. I saw parents of friends who taught and performed for a living, and I wouldn’t have had that experience in such an impactful way staying in the city (nor would I have gotten it from my own family). I really started imagining myself like the teachers I saw in town, playing music regularly and teaching other to do it. The flip side of that coin is that the music I heard in live performance growing up in that incredibly homogenous town was, well, incredibly homogenous – almost exclusively church music, classical music, and mid-century music theater. We didn’t even get a rock radio station in town during my elementary school years. The choice of this town probably turned my ear and heart toward the music of the European tradition – it certainly made my listening experiences and performing opportunities far less diverse than they would have been in a city. Another fact that I didn’t appreciate at the time was that Northfield was full of highly educated “faculty wives” – at that time, women who had put aside their own aspirations to assist their husband’s career. So many of my early teachers were women like this, highly gifted and trained, who were leading the childrens’ and church ensembles. I had a lot of great instruction early on. Even though that’s not what my parents were seeking, it’s what their decision brought to me. And I benefitted as a young student from women whose situation was a product of severe misogyny and economic inequality.
The most significant decision my parents made really on purpose was to act on the advice of my piano teacher and buy a baby grand piano when I was just entering high school. This was HUGE – playing daily on my first real instrument transformed my ear and my physical playing, It was an essential step in me developing as a performer. And it was a enormous burden for them. They put off replacing a vehicle, which they really needed as a two-job family, in order to get me this instrument. It was a statement of faith in my potential that made an indelible impact on me. It meant a lot to me that they thought my as-yet-imaginary life as a pianist was worth backing up in this way.
Kathy, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
I started working as a musician in high school, just piecing it together – teaching kids, working church jobs, playing gigs at parties and in department stores. Later, I became an apprentice at the San Francisco Opera and began a long career as a pianist/vocal coach in opera houses. But I never lost that multi-pronged approach to music-making, to seeking collaboration. One kind of music-making feeds all the others. I learned that early out of necessity because I had to work, I needed money for school and life, but that freelance grind showed me that teaching made my performing better, made my writing better – performing made my teaching better – more gigs of greater variety made my musicianship better – it was all connected.
In the very conservative world of classical music, where a premium is placed on connection to the past and respect for tradition, I often heard that I was trying to do too many things. Even now, when the whole industry under duress has embraced the “portfolio career,” there’s still a feeling that if you’re REALLY great, that will show up in a more streamlined career – only playing, only singing, only soloing, only conducting, whatever it is. We’re rapidly moving past that, but I feel vindicated. And I learned this from a place of disadvantage, from not being economically privileged (although I had enormous help and advantage at many points, I don’t mean to overstate anything).
I love my life in this last third of my career. I teach at a big institution, and I regularly perform as a pianist and conductor. I’ve been involved in making quite a bit of art for online viewing. I’m writing regularly and involved in a mentorship organization, Turn the Spotlight. I’m speaking on women’s issues in classical careers. I’m starting my own producing organization, Lone Star Songs. My musical life has never been more diverse, and as a musician I’ve never been happy or healthier.
We’re in a very turbulent time of having to reimagine all of our economic models around being artists. I don’t have much of worth to say about that, but I do know that trickle-down hasn’t worked for art any better than it’s worked anywhere else. Diversification and community building are what I’m interested in helping.
Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?
What I’m moved to share by this question is something many classical musicians went through, which was the pandemic. The panic of the shutdown sent some folks into high gear and others into safe mode, but regardless of what made sense for everyone individually, we were all faced with having to navigate in a space where we ALL lacked expertise. Very few of us understood how to connect as artists online – how to make music, rehearse music, teach, learn. Those few who did have experience became absolutely beacons for the rest of us. Anything that ANY of us did involved risk and the acceptance of imperfection, mistakes, etc. It definitely made me aware of how little grace I extended myself or anyone else in terms of “perfection.” I think we still have the potential to maximize the effect of our COMMMUNAL resilience – to embrace and understand what we’ve learned and to really transform our systems.
The pandemic definitely brought out my fight mode! I jumped into online teaching and creation with both feet. The film I helped make, INTERSTATE, is one of the most important projects of my life. It happened because of my willingness to take risks and work way outside of my comfort zone – but it wasn’t just me, it was a whole bunch of us. Along with so many other experiences, this taught me that my own resilience is only one tiny piece of the puzzle.
I’ve also learned how much resilience costs. I’m kind of in recovery mode now, while other people are astride their horses. I’m starting to see us as one big system. We help each other. Sometimes it’s your turn to push, sometimes to rest. We can’t even see how we help, guide, and support each other.
Is there mission driving your creative journey?
That musical communication has meaning so far beyond making us feels better. Music can actually teach the art of listening – the art of silence! That’s not automatic, but it’s possible. And how we need it!
Contact Info:
- Website: Kathleenkellymusic.com
- Instagram: Kathleenkellymusic
- Facebook: Deekay Zee
Image Credits
Arielle Doneson