kimya dawson

Earlier this year one of my friends took me to a hidden loft in the East Bay, tucked away in a place like you'd probably never find in San Francisco. The walls were covered with paintings and the place was packed; another friend performed to people sitting at her feet and someone had even brought their baby.

People chatted and exchanged beers and really felt the music; for some reason I thought of the famous musicians rushing by me in a hallway in Los Angeles. It was such a different feeling, once everything had become successful and had been packaged and put through the motions. There come lunches with the right people, and the hordes of young and hopeful Hollywood girls materializing as fairweather girlfriends, and then the larger and larger shows. I am not so naive as to think that musicians do not need savings and healthcare, and that most musical careers, at least the conventional ones are short-lived.

But here was a different kind of feeling, something that doesn't mesh well with that other kind of scene. I had never even heard of Kimya Dawson at that point, although I knew about the movie Juno and am a big fan of Michael Cera. I didn't know any details at all. All I knew was that when she moved her chair to the floor to sing, I could feel her power.

There are many different kinds of people in this world. I've decided to stop analyzing everything; there are so many explanations for why things are the way they are, but when you encounter certain people the chemistry is there and you know they are powerful.

Kimya started talking, and even though her voice was very small and she was humble, I was entranced; she started to sing and it was the first time in a long time that I'd wanted to cry when a musician sang, and the first time in a long time that I really appreciated seeing a musician live.

Kimya said some things about becoming suddenly famous that year, and how she had had to deal with many kinds of people she wouldn't normally deal with. When she was finished people were tearful; I wondered how you could capture such emotions on video or audio. I guess that's the power of the live performance! She has a charisma that only a few people have, and I (as well as everyone else in the room) desperately wanted to meet up with her afterward and ask her about her thoughts on life, love and the universe.

Of all the millions upon millions of people out there, why do only a few touch us this in this way? Of all the singers and actresses and dancers that traipse across the stage, leaving me with nothing after I see them come and go, it's so remarkable to run into someone like Kimya.

After the performance, I always want to go and talk to the artists or musicians, but I always chicken out. What can I say that hundreds of other people haven't said? Despite the performance being one of the most intimate moments of the evening, when it's over the space is closed somehow, and the artist closes down and becomes shy.

Had she been prepared in the usual way, chosen by a guru, then run through the general mill, would she have had the voice that she does now? Is there space for the voice of someone with talent who doesn't look like Halle Berry or Christina Aguilera? There is!