An Impactful Year & More Ahead: Introducing Dollars for Dissonance

By Hyedi Nelson

Give to the Max Day is probably my favorite holiday. I love the energy and excitement that’s focused on Minnesota nonprofits for an entire day, and I’m really excited about my first Give to the Max Day as a Dissonance board member. 

When I joined the board, I was somewhat familiar with the important work the organization had been doing for more than five years. But getting more intimately involved over these past eight months, I’ve gotten to see the impact of Dissonance firsthand—both in individual lives and in the community.

Dissonance Year in Review

In 2022, thanks to generous donations from our supporters, Dissonance launched its Sessions series, releasing episodes one and two featuring Charlie Parr and Chastity Brown, respectively. And a third installment is on the way.

We’ve also seen our monthly StoryWell series evolve. After converting the format to virtual throughout 2020 and 2021, we’ve been able to resume some in-person meet-ups, bringing back an important component of connection and support.

To kick off the year, we contributed to the Star Tribune’s multimedia project challenging community members to give up drinking or cut back, and supporting them in that effort, during Dry January. Throughout 2022, we spread our mission and reached more people through interviews with various media (i.e. MPR, Fox 9, MinnPost, Star Tribune, Mostly MN Music, Adventures in Americana, Duluth News Tribune) as well as content shared via our own website and social media channels (Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, Twitter).

In February, we amplified and gratefully accepted proceeds from Twin Cities music legend Cindy Lawson’s touching song and tribute to her friend, the late beloved singer/songwriter Lori Wray. We also sponsored the Morningside After Dark event series, featuring amazing Minnesota artists, from January through April.

In May, we participated in MTV’s second annual Mental Health Action Day, joining others around the country in sharing resources with our community. We also had the opportunity to host the very talented Chris Koza for a house concert. Chris played an intimate set for those in attendance and also sat down with Dissonance co-founder Sarah Souder Johnson for a conversation about wellness in the music industry and his personal experiences, challenges and successes. 

We were happy to sponsor music for an event in July at Jinx Tea in Minneapolis, featuring the mobile Sans Bar from Austin, Texas, which provided an alcohol-free night full of spirit. And it was an honor to lead a mental health workshop for BETA , a nonprofit that supports the founders of Minnesota-based tech startups.

Next up was a screening of the The Creative High, an award-winning film profiles nine artists in recovery from addiction who are transformed by creativity in the search for identity and freedom. Dissonance, along with Passenger Recovery and The SIMS Foundation, three nonprofits separated by thousands of miles but connected by the mission of supporting wellness in and through the arts, came together to host an exclusive online screening and discussion of the documentary.

And last, but not least, we held our 2nd annual Ghost Notes Fall Block Party on September 17. The day was full of music, art literature, activities, N/A drinks, food, and fun. So many awesome folks came together to make it happen as volunteers, vendors, organizers, sponsors, and guests. But we’re especially thankful to the musicians who embraced the concept of a sober performance space and brought their all to the stage.

And 2022 isn’t over yet: On Friday, December 9, Unhappy Holidays is BACK. Join us for a stellar panel and of course, delicious N/A beverages and be around others in a laid-back, low-key atmosphere as a bit of respite from the usual holiday hectic-ness.

Dollars for Dissonance

OK, so back to Give to the Max Day. This year, we’re introducing Dollars for Dissonance, a focused fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $5,000 (with a stretch goal of $10,000) to help fund Dissonance’s major initiatives in 2023 (including Season 2 of Sessions!) with the following goals:

• Continue to fairly compensate artists who participate in our events, such as Sessions and Ghost Notes

• Make our events accessible to as many as possible – without the barriers of cost or the presence of alcohol

• Keep our Get Help Directory available at no cost

• Engage more youth in our programming and activities

Early giving for Give to the Max Day is officially underway – so join us by making a donation now and/or creating your own fundraising page, or wait until Nov. 17 and join in the fun that day! Watch our website and social media channels for more.

Hyedi Nelson is a Dissonance board member.

(L to R) Dissonance board members Sarah Souder Johnson, Hyedi Nelson, Katy Vernon, Jeremiah Gardner, Jen Gilhoi and Manual Garcia.

Thoughts on Thinking

By Luke LeBlanc

There’s something about playing a concert that feels good. I could just accept this fact, feel good, and move on, but for some reason I am compelled to analyze why it feels good. Of course, performing with a band of friends to a loving audience carries with it an insurmountable level of joy. More important, though, is the other half of this “why,” because it applies to performers and non-performers alike: when I am performing, I can’t think.

More accurately, performing is one of those activities where you think about one thing and one thing only. I can’t ruminate on whether the phrasing of my email is the reason that the one radio host didn’t get back to me; I need to be sure I go to the B-flat following this chorus. I can’t add “order a new external hard-drive so you don’t lose all your files again” to my to-do list; the quick switch from the one chord to the four chord is coming up before I hit that G-minor walk-down. I can’t check my wifi-enabled cat-cam to ensure Houdini and Minnie haven’t embarked on a feline adventure and escaped my apartment; my phone is on the stage with the Set-timer app running and I need to adjust my Vox AC115 amplifier before the next song. When I perform, I don’t worry about a thing. It’s not through some kind of super-human willpower that I’m able to free myself from the shackles of overflowing thought; I’m simply too distracted by the good time I’m having.

The idea of productively distracting yourself from excessive fretting is not a novel one. As author, private pilot, and piano-technician Thomas S. Sterner writes in The Practicing Mind, “I not only loved to practice and learn anything but found the total immersion of myself into an activity to be an escape from the daily pressures of life.” If you haven’t read Sterner’s book, I highly recommend it, as it centers around the pure joy and fulfillment that practicing a skill or passion can bring. The process itself is so encompassing and produces such a strong sense of accomplishment that an overactive mind is forced to sit down for a moment, ease in, and enjoy the ride.

Luckily, playing a concert isn’t the only way to achieve this state of bliss (otherwise, I’d only have peace-of-mind once a month). As beautifully enriching as it is to develop skills in a profession, an instrument, or craft, I would add that it’s equally as important to funnel these efforts into immersive periods of relaxation as well. Find those non-toxic things that you can immerse yourself in so much that you temporarily lose sight of everything else. They don’t need to be serious. In fact, I think it’s time we get serious about not being so damn serious. 

For me, performing gives my mind a break from thinking, but so does getting lost in the worlds of TV and movie franchises (hello, The Watcher), queuing up a two-hour podcast while I clean the apartment, or getting lost at 1 AM in a trail of Wikipedia articles that consider time as the fourth dimension. By no means have I perfected the art of fully immersing myself in things that let my mind go, but the process of working on it has allowed me to become better at it. So allow yourself to get lost. And have fun doing it. 

Luke LeBlanc is a Minneapolis-based singer-songwriter whose new album, Fugue State, was released on Oct. 28, 2022.

Episode 2 of Dissonance Sessions, featuring Chastity Brown

Minneapolis singer-songwriter Chastity Brown is the featured artist on the second episode of Dissonance Sessions, our new video series that is part therapy session, part recording session. Chastity discusses her musical roots, surviving the isolation of the pandemic, witnessing the global racial reckoning that manifested itself mere blocks from her home, and embracing hope, connection and love even amid sorrow. She also performs songs from her amazing new album, Sing to the Walls.

--------- Content ----------

00:00 - Introduction
00:31 - Roots
06:09 - Who I Am In The World
16:15 - Say Their Names
26:25 - If I Can't Burn It Down, I'll Sing To It
29:07 - Performance "Sing To The Walls"
34:49 - The Independence I Needed
41:30 - A Love Record
43:50- Performance "Like The Sun"
50:28 - End Credits and Performance "Wonderment" at Electric Fetus

Each episode of Sessions takes a deep dive into the story of one artist, giving listeners the unique opportunity to get to know the person and music in more intimate ways.

Nonprofits Collaborate to Present 'The Creative High'

September 1st film event will kick off National Recovery Month, highlighting the unique challenges of a creative life and the universal hope of recovery from substance use and mental health conditions

Minneapolis, Detroit and Austin – Dissonance, Passenger Recovery and The SIMS Foundation, three nonprofits separated by thousands of miles but connected by the mission of supporting wellness in and through the arts, are coming together to host an exclusive online screening and discussion of the new documentary, The Creative High.

The award-winning film profiles nine artists in recovery from addiction who are transformed by creativity in the search for identity and freedom. It will be available to watch for free during a 48-hour screening period starting at 10 a.m. on Aug. 31. A live online panel event will then be held at 7 p.m. CDT on Sept. 1 to kick off National Recovery Month—a time annually to educate the public about substance use disorders and celebrate those who have overcome them. 

WATCH: “The Creative High” Trailer

“Artists face unique challenges with substance use and mental health conditions. They also can find healing in their creative pursuits, and are uniquely skilled messengers of hope and the hard realities of these common, complex issues endemic to humanity,” said Jeremiah Gardner, board member for Minneapolis-based Dissonance. 

“By bringing The Creative High to more people, we hope to reach other artists who can relate to the stories and also the broader public that enjoys music and art of all kinds,” said Detroit-based Passenger Recovery founder Christopher Tait, himself an artist in recovery who performs with the band Electric 6.   

“Addiction and mental health conditions are common but complex, often misunderstood and stigmatized. The Creative High is a way to shed additional light on not only the problems but the help and solutions available – the promise and possibility of recovery,” said Patsy Dolan Bouressa, therapist and executive director of Austin, Texas-based The SIMS Foundation.

Created by director Adriana Marchione and producer Dianne Griffin, two artists in recovery who live in San Francisco, The Creative High features artists Wes Geer (KORN and Rock to Recovery), Peter Griggs (U-Phoria), Luis Canales (Strobe), Lessa Clark, Brandon Michael Randle (Dopeless), Ralph Spight, Joan Osato, Kathy Page and Jason Bernhardt.

"We're thrilled to have Passenger Recovery, The SIMS Foundation and Dissonance host a screening of The Creative High, and happy to be part of this growing national movement supporting recovery and mental health in and through the arts,” Marchione said. 

“It means a lot for us to do a screening during National Recovery Month and to bring these powerful artist stories to people throughout the country,” added Griffin. 

Dissonance Board Chair and Co-founder Sarah Souder Johnson, a therapist, will facilitate the Sept. 1 discussion with the filmmakers as well as artist subjects Griggs, who started Mascara - the premiere sober drag show in San Francisco, and Geer, who played guitar with KORN and founded Rock to Recovery to help people heal and transform through the experience of writing, playing and performing music. The panel also will answer questions from audience members. 

For more information, to register, and to participate, visit the event website. 

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About Dissonance

Dissonance is a nonprofit arts, mental health, recovery support, and advocacy organization. Run by a volunteer board of directors and based in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minn., Dissonance promotes wellbeing by facilitating conversation, community and connection among artists, industry professionals, educators, healthcare providers and fans. Dissonance produces events, provides resources, creates safe spaces for healthy community and mutual aid, shares insightful and inspiring stories of lived experiences, and works to shape education and business practices to support mental health, addiction recovery and compassion in the arts. Through its efforts to foster a healthier dialogue and environment in and through the arts community, Dissonance aims to support, sustain and celebrate creativity and, by extension, advance public advocacy and smash social stigmas around these topics. Learn more at www.Dissonance.org.

About Passenger Recovery

Passenger is a recovery support system based in Detroit, Michigan. Our ambition is to make free resources more accessible to those navigating the daily anxieties that accompany traveling or touring in recovery, and to support all pathways to recovery with our local community. Whether it's transportation to a meeting, a safe space beyond the green room, or our Compass interactive meeting database, we want you to know you're not alone. Passenger can help. Learn more at PassengerRecovery.com. 

About The SIMS Foundation

The SIMS Foundation provides mental health and substance use recovery services and supports for musicians, music industry professionals, and their dependent family members. Through education, community partnerships, and accessible managed care, SIMS seeks to destigmatize and reduce mental health and substance use issues, while supporting and enhancing the wellbeing of the music community at large. Learn more at SIMSfoundation.org. 

Twin Citizen: A Band With a Unique Bond

The members of Minneapolis band Twin Citizen share more than a musical kinship. Four of the five are also connected by the bond of living in recovery from substance use and mental health challenges. Formed during the COVID-19 pandemic, Twin Citizen came together at a time when in-person social connections—and gigs—were hard to come by, supporting each other in more ways than one. The band emerged with songs, good health and gratitude, and has been playing shows throughout Minneapolis and St. Paul in 2022.

Dissonance checked in with the group—Joe Hartley (vocals and rhythm guitar), Adam Lifto (lead guitar), Paul Narlock (bass) Will Hanson (keys) and Joe Diaz (drums)—to learn more about their experiences with sobriety, recovery and music. The band members demonstrated how tight they are by responding to our Q&A as a group. Enjoy, and check out the band’s new music and show schedule at twincitizenmnmusic.com and on all major social platforms.

How have you experienced dissonance in your life?

The four of us in recovery all experienced dissonance during our stints of active addiction and unmanaged mental health disorders , which not only affected our physical health but also our deeply held individual beliefs, values and conceptions of self, leaving us feeling disjointed and unwell. Life is complex, but when habitual chemical use is added to the mix of unmitigated mental health symptoms, it becomes especially complicated and excruciatingly difficult to be in harmony at one’s core.  What often happened, in our experience, is that the logical part of our brains would say, “I don’t want to use chemicals again, and I certainly do not want to experience the consequences associated with my use.” But the primal part of the brain would have other plans, and despite every intention of following logical thought, we would travel right down the same ole’ road again. As you can imagine, after years, or decades, of beating down that path, you can easily lose sight of who you are, what you believe about yourself and the world, and how to maintain the confidence and ability to ensure your behaviors match your values and beliefs. 

How do you stay well, and what does that mean to you?

One of the problems many of us faced when we were struggling with addiction and mental health conditions was attempting to assert control over the circumstance in our lives. The endless attempts to control everything created distress, and when things were outside of our control—which was often the case—we had a great excuse to check out and go back to the familiar pattern of addictive use.  Therefore, for all of us, getting out of our own way and living life on life’s terms is the pathway to appropriate responses to what life has to throw at us. Having balance in life is extremely important. Taking care of our mental and physical health; connecting to the recovery community; and playing, writing and performing music have all been essential to us individually and as a group. Family involvement and support, and maintaining a spiritual practice, have also helped us stay well. Additionally, in the band, mutual respect and keeping open lines of communication are driving forces for everything we do. We have a group chat that is constantly blowing up all our phones day in and day out.

How can a healthy community best be fostered in your area of the arts?

The Minnesota music scene is a vibrant and accepting community that is open to lots of different musical ideas and cultural differences. It has also been our experience that many in the music industry struggle with addiction and mental health issues. Contributing factors include the club/bar environment, anxiety issues associated with playing live, and the glorification of the hard-partying rock star. Twin Citizen exists in contrast to the stereotypes. Not only do we actively support each other’s recovery, but we also embrace the possibility that our example might help others. We want to support fellow musicians who may be struggling with substance use and/or mental health disorders. For many of us, the idea of writing, recording and playing music live without the use of chemicals, at one point in time in our lives, seemed impossible and terrifying.  Twin Citizen has made it possible for us to be fully immersed and present in our musical journeys, which has truly been a blessing.  

Why is the Dissonance mission important?

In our experience, meaningful creative output goes hand-in-hand with wellbeing. In the past, a majority of the band members grinded through creative output while depleting our mental and physical health only to find ourselves unable to pursue personal creative goals. Providing a safe place for people to express, discuss and seek support for the challenges they face is integral to empowering wellbeing in the artistic community. Changing cultural stereotypes, creating public awareness of the real challenges we artists face, and de-stigmatizing substance use and mental health disorders helps make a healthier, more supportive, and more creative environment. The need is clear. All you have to do is watch the news to realize we are losing talented individuals to addiction and mental health disorders way too often. We were blessed with the help of others in our own individual lives and, in many ways, are examples of what can happen when artists sidelined by addiction and mental health disorders get support and are able to find balance and wellbeing. The superpower of recovery allows us to be the best version of ourselves. That’s why we support and are excited to be part of the Dissonance mission.

How can Dissonance meet the needs of our community?

Providing a forum for stories like ours is one important way to serve the community, and we’re grateful for that opportunity. Providing a safe environment for artists to share their truth regarding the very real struggle that exists for many of us and to access the resilience and recovery potential that we all possess is very helpful. We also appreciate that Dissonance provides opportunities for artists to perform or share their work with the community it serves and to network and support one another. Twin Citizen looks forward to getting more involved and sharing both our music and our lived experience as artists in recovery.

Twin Citizen · Kimmy Gibbler

Meet New Dissonance Board Member Hyedi Nelson

Dissonance is excited and grateful to welcome Hyedi Nelson as our newest board member. Hyedi is an account director specializing in health strategy at Bellmont Partners, a full-service communications and PR agency in Edina, Minnesota. Not only is she a communications and networking pro with experience in fundraising and events, but she also brings prior experience serving on the boards of Faith’s Lodge, the Minnesota Health Strategy and Communications Network, and Girls on the Run - Twin Cities. We are thrilled Hyedi has joined the team as a leader and ambassador for our mission to promote health and wellness in and through the arts, and we’re happy to introduce you to her in this Q&A …

How did you hear about Dissonance and what attracted you to the mission?

I first heard about Dissonance when Justin Courtney Pierre was donating proceeds from his My Girl Margot 7” to the organization. From there, I eventually connected with Dissonance Co-founder and Board Chair Sarah Souder Johnson on something related to one of the clients I was working with for my day job. I was immediately drawn to Dissonance because the organization is addressing, head on, such important needs within the creative arts community. I’m excited to join the Dissonance board because of my passion for health — and a special interest in mental health — as well as for the music and creative arts space. 

You experienced the unimaginable grief of losing your firstborn child several years ago. What would you like to share about Charlie and how his loss has shaped you in the years since?   

Losing Charlie completely fucked with my understanding of what the world was up until that point. After he died, absolutely nothing seemed to make sense anymore. I already had anxiety issues, but suddenly I was constantly on edge – because, like…my baby died. Any other “worst-case scenario” seemed not only possible now, but constantly imminent. And then, unfortunately, this experience was followed by another major trauma in my life with the death of my father a couple of years later. It’s an ongoing process of healing and grieving, but these experiences have definitely led to a shift in my mindset of what’s truly important and what’s not really that big of a deal.

EDITOR’S NOTE: In 2020, Hyedi channeled her grief into advocacy by organizing the Concert for Charlie, which raised funds and awareness to help others who experience child loss.

What role has music and/or other art played in your life?

Music was almost a profession for me – not as a performer, but I went to college wanting to work in the music industry. I ultimately decided to go in a different direction, but music has still continued to be a mainstay in my life. Going to see live music is probably my favorite thing in the entire world. I like bringing live music home, too, and hosted three concerts in my backyard last summer (Jeremy Messersmith, Chris Koza and Stephen Kellogg). Music has been one of the ways I’ve made a lot of meaningful connections with some pretty incredible people. 

If therapy or peer support (aka mutual aid) have been a part of your life experience, in what ways have either or both been helpful?

I don’t know where I’d be without therapy. Therapy has been a part of my life since early adulthood and I sing its praises to anyone who’ll listen. I recently embarked on a new chapter in my therapy journey, making a shift from mostly psychotherapy to adding in some “somatic” work, which has been an extremely helpful experience so far. My mental health struggles tend to manifest in an extremely physical way, so the mind-body connection that is the focus of this kind of therapy makes a lot of sense to me.

What positive experiences have you had with sobriety?

My personal experience with sobriety has been pretty limited so far, and it’s a journey that I’m still exploring as I figure out the right path for me. Even so, the benefits I’ve experienced so far have been honestly remarkable. It’s a long list, but the two benefits that have had the biggest impact on my life are a significant decrease in anxiety and an ability to be more present. I’m not sure what my long-term journey will look like, but it’s clear my relationship with alcohol will be different than what it’s been for the past two decades of my life.

How have you experienced or witnessed stigma associated with mental health and/or substance use issues?

I was adopted when I was six months old and grew up in rural Wisconsin. I didn’t realize it then, but mental health and substance use issues were something I grew up around. Both issues simply weren’t talked about – and definitely not addressed until they became so acute, or severe, they were unavoidable, such as when they contributed to the death of one of the most important people in my life.

We understand you play a variety of instruments. Which ones, and which is your favorite?

I play the flute, guitar and piano. Of those, I’m most proficient at the flute, but I’ve really been enjoying the piano as of late!

How do you stay well?

Movement, sleep and meds. I’m not the runner that I used to be, but I’ve been finding a ton of joy recently in incorporating movement into my day vs. always needing to exercise vigorously. I vary it up more now. Things like yoga, walking, lifting weights, cross-country skiing, kayaking, stand-up paddle-boarding – they all keep me feeling good. And I love sleep. I firmly believe I’m one of those people who require more sleep than most, so as I’ve gotten older, I’ve been working hard to really try and honor that and get as much of it as possible. Finally — for me, personally, medication is also a necessary component of my wellness!

Filling the Empty Space

By Chris Koza

When I first started playing music professionally, I performed wherever I could, and this meant accepting whatever compensation was offered, especially around the margins. $25 and a pound of beans? Done. Also one free coffee drink? Give me that large mocha with extra whip! After all, I wanted to maximize my earnings and this meant accepting everything. Maybe there’d be some sandwiches and pastries being thrown out at the end of the night and the manager would offer a couple of these as well. I could leave the gig super caffeinated with some money in my pocket, a pound of beans, and some muffins. Add it all up and that’s serious value for doing something I had previously done for free. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but that’s the situation for many new performers, and not every venue can offer more. It all seems so cute now, and please be assured I am grateful for every last crumb.  

My caffeine tolerance is such that downing a large mocha at 10 p.m. confuses my circadian rhythms. I like to think now that when you’re young, you can handle any chemical disruption - your body is a machine of processing toxins and optimizing energy. You’re curious and resilient. Fast-forward to playing bars and clubs, and instead of mochas, muffins, and beans, you’re slamming backstage beers, feasting on chips and salsa, and staying up for set times that don’t start until 10, 11, or midnight. Short sleep for a night can be a hero’s suffering but when it becomes the norm, decision-making and mental, emotional, and physical health all begin to suffer. If copious caffeine and sugar is a disruption for sleep, what about a half dozen drinks? What about piles of fries and pizza at 1 a.m.? Milkshakes? And this is just referencing some PG-rated stuff. 

Ok, so what’s the big deal? Mochas and salsa? Not really evil vices. A few beers? Not inherently the problem for everyone. This is the age-old practice of hospitality that venues generously offer and performers gratefully accept. Once you’re a successful act, you make requests or eventually have your own personal catering, but a different quality of options alone doesn’t guarantee wholesale healthier practices. 

There have been countless times where I found myself using that last drink ticket when I didn’t really want to, just because it was part of the compensation. Or eating an entire bag of cookies or candy bars because it was part of craft services. Or taking all of the leftovers from the band meal home, not because I was concerned about food waste, but because I felt I couldn't waste a part of the compensation. This mentality of scarcity would creep in - one that compels us to consume it all. It’s strange, unflattering, unhealthy and unsustainable. This mentality of scarcity tends to creep in when I’m feeling worn down — tired and unable to scramble out of the shallow emotional ditch I’ve fallen into. 

When deciding to take the show on the road, it was an onerous task to book tours. Despite our desire and conviction, we didn’t have an audience beyond a handful of folks in most places. I’m thankful for all the hard work everyone put in to make the dates and routing make any sense at all. The money was probably enough for one person but definitely not a whole band, so we’d try to stretch resources anywhere we could. That often meant downtime between soundcheck and set times at the venue accepting whatever comp drinks and food they would offer. We would partake - this was part of the compensation. Some venues were truly spectacular in their hospitality, making us road-warriors feel like royalty with the quality of what they could offer, even when the money wasn’t substantial. Sometimes, after our set, we’d stay at the venue and finish whatever snacks and drinks were there for us. Maybe an excited and generous show-goer would offer to buy the band a round, not thinking that we’d be better off with a bowl of hot soup and a glass of V8 over another mug of cold beer. 

People love music, but nobody has to be a musician. Is it a choice? A calling? Trading on innate ability? In a capitalist society, the value proposition of schlepping your art across the country is far from a guarantee. Many creative people do it, do it well, and thrive while successfully spreading their art to the masses. But so many more are just scraping by while under immense pressure to validate their self-worth and just plain survive. 

My observations aren’t really about venues or music or excess. It’s about a mentality; a mentality of scarcity. In my experience, the vast majority of people at venues and in bands want to do their best and go above and beyond, whenever possible, in satisfying the terms of the agreement; they want to build good relationships and support each other. Life isn’t about trying to squeeze blood from a rock and claim as much as you can. Extreme capitalism is like that, but that doesn’t have to be a way of life. 

It’s easy for the late nights, long drives, and a compromised diet to chip away at sleep and morale, affecting decision-making and ambition. Nobody likes to work their ass off for something they believe in only to see all of the energy they keep putting out into the world come back in tiny, indifferent fractions. If you only made $25 at the show, maybe that’s exciting and maybe that’s depressing. But maybe it’s more exciting or less depressing if the venue hands over a coffee and some snacks. Or that $25 by itself doesn’t much impact your finances but if you’ve had three free drinks from the venue, at least you don’t have to spend that $25 on catching a buzz. 

The underlying issue remains, though, once the buzz wears off. I feel there is a sense of glamorization when it comes to the “rock and roll” lifestyle, as if there is some great all-seeing dues-collector who is watching to make sure that every wanna-be rockstar is enduring rough patches that are sufficiently deep-enough to justify potential membership. I don’t know what “making it” even means though. Through the years there have been times of great attention and opportunity, and times when it seems like everything has dried up. I figured early on that the idea of success is a moving target that not everyone can afford to hold as absolute.

Ten years ago, I thought by now I’d be sustainably touring the USA and beyond, playing modest 400- to 1,000-person rooms filled with an audience that would hang onto every word. Now I see what a rare and difficult level that is to achieve. Now I say that success is doing what you love, and loving what you do. My livelihood still revolves exclusively around music, but I don’t count the number of shows and the sizes of the rooms so closely any more. I try to bring a little more joy and context into every room and upon each stage I step. I try to reach one listener at a time by being my best and truest self. 

In breaking down life as a series of choices and consequences, if what you really need are better consequences, then it’s easier to consider making healthier choices more often. What better choice can you make for yourself than the choice of good health? This doesn't mean always saying yes or no, but it can mean being aware of why you’re saying yes or no. If I’m saying yes to that martini because I’m happy about how the show went, that’s one thing. If I’m saying yes because I feel upset and under-appreciated, that’s another. If I’m saying yes because I really want it, that’s one thing. If I’m saying yes because it’s filling a void where something else is lacking — if I feel owed — that’s another. 

I don’t believe there is anything wrong with enjoying the fruits of one’s labor. There’s nothing inherently wrong with having a good time and going with the flow of an amazing night. There’s nothing evil about staying up into the wee hours chasing the truths of the universe. Everyone has a different threshold of what they’re willing or able to endure. For me, It’s easier for my mental, emotional and physical health to become compromised when my choice is to keep surging forward — to keep consuming. 

I’m not a young upstart anymore. I like to try for a good night’s sleep and a productive tomorrow. I have to remind myself that I am capable of making a healthier choice in the moment, which is more likely to lead to a healthier consequence. I struggle when confronting lifestyle and choices in terms of ultimatums. Life is much more than the thing that you do, or the money you earn, or the things you consume. 

If I could give my younger performer self a piece of advice, I would suggest: more often than not, ask for a decaf and leave all but one of the day-old muffins for the birds; give that last drink ticket to a friend; order a salad and a cup of herbal tea at 1 a.m. instead of a patty melt and an IPA; go for a walk outside or take a nap in the van instead of hanging in the venue for three hours; and be present in more of the difficult moments. I would whisper to my younger performer self to let the shortcomings of the moment turn into real hunger, and let that hunger lead to real action. Don’t become best friends with that box of warm chardonnay and the wilted veggie tray with the room-temperature ranch dip. (Mostly) everybody means well, but only you can choose to be well. 

Chris Koza is a composer and performer based in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Download "Nope" — a touching tribute to the late Lori Wray

In February 2021, the world lost another artistic force when beloved singer/songwriter Lori Wray, who graced Minneapolis stages from the late 80s to the early 2000's, passed away. A year later, fellow Twin Cities music legend Cindy Lawson has recorded and released Lori’s song “Nope” as a tribute to her good friend, and is donating proceeds to Dissonance.

All of us at Dissonance are very honored to help lift up Lori’s memory, grateful to Cindy, and committed to being good stewards of the proceeds through our work promoting mental health, addiction recovery and wellbeing in and through the arts.

You can be part of this tribute, too — please listen to “Nope” and purchase the download from Cindy’s Bandcamp page. The single also will be on Cindy’s upcoming album to be released May 20.

About Lori Wray: Leaving Lawrence, Kansas, in the mid-1980s, Lori Wray joined a great migration of midwestern musicians seeking adventures and glory in Minneapolis, hometown of the Replacements and Husker Du. Initially an anomaly in the male-dominated independent rock scene of the time, Lori’s songs, charisma and ambition quickly caught the attention of music fans and fellow artists. Her 1989 EP “Introducing Lori Wray,” received accolades in the music press, including Rolling Stone, which called her a “Heartland Debby Harry.” She went on to perform with the bands Everthread, The Mandrakes, and Von Bulows. Other notable solo recordings included 1998’s “Safely Crass” and 2000’s “Hisstory.”

About Cindy Lawson: Minneapolis rock pioneer Cindy Lawson was frontwoman of The Clams in the 1980-90s and later Whoops Kitty. She returned to the stage last fall with a fresh EP, New Tricks—rocking like she never left. Learn more in this 2021 Star Tribune profile and 2016 The Current blog post, and look for her new album this May.

Finding Your Voice in Embracing All That You Are (Part 1: Channeling Creativity from Trauma)

By Jocelyn Hagen

On an early winter morning in 2012, I woke up to see the world spinning. My newborn baby was gently stirring in the bassinet next to the bed, and my 3-year old son was sound asleep downstairs. My husband, a touring musician, was somewhere else, I don’t remember where. I had vertigo. My vision was spinning out of control, just like a cheesy, old-fashioned TV transition effect. Thank goodness for the landline, but at that time I only had a few numbers memorized. Husband, no answer. Mom and Dad, no answer. Best friend, the same. Starting to feel queasy, I dialed 911.

About 5-10 minutes later, a fireman was breaking into my house with my 3-year-old standing inside. The police officer and paramedics were so kind to me that morning, and they were able to contact my husband’s parents, thankfully, who lived and worked close enough to come care for the kids and meet me at the hospital. By the time I was in the ambulance, the vertigo had subsided but I still felt terrible and extremely nauseous.

Physical therapy followed. I remained dizzy and unstable for months, and the whole experience was traumatic. Simple tasks like folding laundry and unloading the dishwasher were difficult. It was hard to find joy. At some point I realized that I had not played the piano or sang anything more than a lullaby in months.

I decided to start practicing again, and I gave myself little piano lessons, challenging myself and tracking my progress. I pulled out repertoire I had always wanted to learn, as well as old favorites. I began improvising again, revisiting songs I had written in college. At the time, Ed Sheeran’s song “The A Team” was on heavy rotation, and I heard it nearly every day when listening to the radio while driving my son to Montessori school. Also during that time, I was practicing Debussy’s “Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum” from Children’s Corner, an absolute delight to play. It falls beautifully under the fingers in the key of C Major. These two pieces became linked in my mind, and reminded me of each other. I never figured out why exactly, but probably something to do with counterpoint of the melodies. I decided on a whim one day to try to play them together - my hands running through the Debussy, my voice singing over the top. To my delight, it worked. Some moments “crunched” in a beautiful way. I returned to the piano daily to work on it for months. (It was also quite hard to do.)

It took me nearly three months to arrange this mashup of Debussy and Sheeran, and nearly a year before I felt comfortable performing it in public. To this day it is one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever given myself, and one of my very favorite creations. It resonates with who I am in such a deep and profound way ~ a pianist to my core, a pop singer, and a solver of musical puzzles.

Jocelyn Hagen performs Debussy's “Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum” while singing Ed Sheeran's “The A Team” on her 2013 EP entitled MASHUP.

My episode of vertigo also directly influenced my compositional work. That winter I had received a “Live Music for Dance” grant with a talented choreographer and dancer named Penelope Freeh. She earned us a short residency at The Maggie Allesee National Center for Choreography in Tallahassee, so I arranged to come down for a few weeks with my 3-month-old son and mother (gratefully) in tow. I had never composed music for dance before ~ it was thrilling and a bit daunting. The night of my arrival in Florida, the three of us touched down near midnight, and the rental car I had pre-ordered was missing the infant car seat I had requested. My mother and I stood in the abandoned parking lot for at least an hour, pondering our choices. Thankfully, Walmart is open 24 hours and my mom was able to drive and pick it up, install it, and take us to our apartment in the wee hours of the morning.

I remember clearly not getting a wink of sleep that night. I lay in bed, tossing and turning, nursing, venting frustration and crying into my pillow, and plotting how I would approach the next day’s workshop with my fellow artists. And somewhere in the middle of all that exhaustion, an idea formed. In the past month, my life was also spinning completely out of control. I had no regular sleep pattern, I was caring for two young children mostly on my own, and even my body had betrayed me. I decided to stop trying to control my outcomes ~ it seemed useless. And I thought that I could try extending that mindset into my current project.

I showed up to rehearsal the next day, bleary-eyed, with only the scrap of this evolving idea. I was going to try my hand at aleatoric music, which can be defined as “a form of music that is subject to improvisation or structured randomness.” This style was a complete departure from my current compositional style that I had spent nearly a decade developing. I’m a meticulous composer and editor, and every dot on my scores arrives with intention and purpose. But this score was different. It consisted of looping patterns that repeated until a visual clue signaled the next section. The musicians became movers as well, interacting with their dancing counterparts, actively responding to their gestures and positions on stage. My dizziness made it into the movement language of the dancers as well. The piece begins with the male dancer standing alone on stage, eyes closed, gently swaying, unbalanced. Then he lifts his arms, holding them up and to the sides, inspired by my physical therapy exercises. It was an act of finding balance and stillness.

We titled the piece “Slippery Fish,” a splendid title for a work that defied traditional definition and resulted in a fresh interpretation with each performance. The score remains to this day in manuscript form ~ pen, marker, paper. Engraving it in software felt very wrong, somehow stripping it of its whimsical and delightfully strange identity. “Slippery Fish” has been performed nearly a dozen times and gave Penny and I the best review we’ve ever received: “completely original in all respects.”

The takeaway from these stories is not the triumph of intellectual fortitude over trauma. Quite the opposite, in fact. I don’t believe either of these creations would exist in the same way had I never experienced the helplessness of vertigo and the lingering dizziness it gave me. I might never have delved back into a rigorous practice routine. I might never have explored the possibilities of indeterminate musical form. In both instances the resulting art is powerful because it is genuine. I could not have manufactured those works from the position of a bystander. I had to live through them.

Through dedicated practice and focus on my instrument, I healed my body and mindset. Through the process of letting go, I mastered a contradictory process of musical creation. My raw, fractured self pushed into new realms of possibility and creative breakthroughs. It reminds me of this excerpt of a song “Anthem” by Leonard Cohen: “Forget your perfect offering / There is a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in.”

I don’t believe that any of us are immune from trauma. Tiny or towering, these experiences shape our perspective of the world and bring out who we really are ~ the essence of which we are made. As an artist I believe it is my duty to explore those depths and share them with the world, because it is through art that we learn to understand ourselves. My job is to take the listener on a journey, out of the present moment and current problems and to-do lists, and find the emotion (often hidden) inside. Cracking myself open and revealing my own traumas and experience through my music provides an entry point for others to examine their own lives. I know that my trauma is very small relative to many others, but that doesn’t mean it affects me any less. A big part of healing from trauma is simply acknowledging that it exists and that you need to deal with it.

Trauma is a part of life ~ no one escapes life unscathed. It is how you respond to those moments that defines who you are. Don’t be afraid to dive deep. Trust your crazy ideas. How will your creative energy help others and add beauty to the world?

Jocelyn Hagen is a Twin Cities-based composer whose music has been commissioned and performed around the globe. A performer as well, she is also part of the a cappella band Nation. In addition, she is the co-founder and co-owner of Graphite Publishing, an online vocal music publisher of digital scores.

Dissonance Has My Heart

Throughout my life, I have turned to the arts for comfort, healing, entertainment and distraction. Dance and music, in particular, have always been part of my being - a true love, if you will. Growing up, I put together soundtracks with different songs for different situations and occasions, choreographed at all hours of the night, and I wallpapered my teenage bedroom in Rolling Stone covers. Music makes sense to me because it mirrors life: the melodies that rise and fall the same way mood ebbs and flows, the rhythms that help move you along or insist you wait patiently, and my favorite part - the mindful silence between the notes that offers a chance to reflect and simultaneously beckons you to listen closely for what comes next. Music is for celebrating and grieving. It’s for letting go and understanding ourselves and finding one another. The infinity of music is the closest thing to magic that I can imagine. 

I’ve also always been a planner, so it was no surprise I took the linear steps from high school right into college, then teaching music, and then becoming a therapist. But it took a leap of faith to do something outside of the box, and I have Dissonance co-founder, David Lewis, to thank for pushing me to go there. In 2012, David and I spent a lot of moments with our work team at a small music college scratching our heads, wondering how to best support musicians who wanted to make a life in the arts. They were grappling with how-to’s, feasibility, and their own becoming as young people. Many were also struggling with addiction, mental illness, grief, and identity on top of the typical growing pains. We realized we needed to make it ok to talk about this stuff in public on our campus and to do so in an accessible way, through music. We had our method: a panel with notable musicians who would talk about their own mental health. We just needed a name. 

On a walk back to campus after having one of our deep planning talks (my favorite) at the Amsterdam (his favorite), "Dissonance" clicked in my head. I screamed it at David out of nowhere, and it was quickly a done deal. In psychology, dissonance is the discomfort of holding or perceiving conflicting beliefs. In music, dissonance is the discomfort or tension of clashing pitches. In both, we seek resolution—i.e. to resolve the discomfort. And that was exactly it for our students: they were pushing toward a developmental leap in their work with us - whether in counseling or career services - and trying to make sense of the discomfort that comes with growth.

When the college started to reduce services for students and my position was cut, I knew it was worth fighting for the rights to Dissonance — both the name and our concept. The idea for a nonprofit was born when David and I gathered a passionate group of professionals who would later become our founding board members. We all voted to start a 501(c)3 organization and did so in 2016, which means we celebrated five years in summer 2021!

When artists continue saying yes to our events and new folks reach out to be involved, that’s a sign we are on the right path. When individuals contact us about the support they have found through our Get Help Directory, it solidifies our goal of linking folks to mental health and recovery resources. And when educators and organizations share our handouts or invite us into their spaces, you can hear the stigma crumbling. 

I can talk endlessly about the cool stuff we have done, the outstanding roster of artists who have played with us, and the inspiring stories we have heard (read the many other posts on this blog for more!). But the most meaningful part of Dissonance to me personally at this moment in time is the lesson that I don't have to keep myself at arms length as a leader here. As the Chair of the Board, I used to unintentionally treat Dissonance as something I oversaw and made nice for others. When I was forced to set a boundary with my time during winter 2021 due to personal life challenges, I finally admitted to the rest of the board that I was afraid to step back, to let go. That’s when they all insisted that I rest and promised to carry on until I was ready for next steps. That acceptance told me everything I needed to know about the community we have created together. Talk about an “aha” moment! It was then I realized this thing I nurtured for everyone else over the years was exactly what - and who - my current self needed. 

It is fair to say I am in awe of the relationships forged in the name of Dissonance and the human beings who offer themselves up to not only our shared cause but to me as a person. In fact, I think some might even appreciate me more for my vulnerability than for my management skills. The Dissonance embrace has been incredibly humbling, enlightening and healing. I practice gratitude for these authentic relationships daily and feel inspired to keep going and growing because of them. 

Our mission of supporting mental health and recovery in and through the arts includes everyone. We all have a mental health story and are all touched by addiction in some way. We also all benefit from the arts in our lives, without a doubt. I am so incredibly proud of the small spark of an idea that has grown into a steady heartbeat here in the Twin Cities. Over time, we’ve been incredibly fortunate to welcome new voices to our board, each of whom has contributed to our evolution as an organization. Our volunteers, artist alumni, event attendees, blog readers, and community collaborators all make Dissonance what it is at any given moment. 

Dissonance combines my passions for creativity, wellness, and relationships, and it’s an honor to be part of this with all of you. I invite anyone reading to check out our monthly Story Well group, attend events, and contribute to our blog. Please also consider Dissonance in your giving plans or come volunteer with us! And stay tuned for our next meaningful and fun project, Dissonance Sessions, which will bring out stories behind the music in a fresh new way that reaches more people and brings us all together. More magic.  

Sarah Souder Johnson, MEd, LPCC, is co-founder and chair of the board for Dissonance, and a mental health therapist at Sentier Psychotherapy.