Earlier this year, we welcomed Calvin Arsenia to our program. He was performing the next night at The Momentary, and we had just a few minutes on that day's program to let you know about his show. But we want to share more from that conversation today.
Calvin Arsenia is a multi-instrumentalist who's best known for his exploration of the harp. He is a musician, he is a singer, but he's also written a book, and he manages the historic Greenwood Social Hall in Kansas City — a venue where performers can expect to play to an attentive audience. He was also part of the most recent Bentonville TEDx late last year. When we spoke in January, our conversation started with the instrument he's most known for.
Calvin Arsenia: I came to the harp primarily as an instrument to self-accompany my voice. Most people who are trained in harp — from a young age or from any age — the pedagogy begins in a repertoire where the harp is the solo instrument or is accompanying in scores or in classical music. The stereotype is that the harpist kind of just has a couple of glissandos in a piece, and then that's it. Or they're the star, and they're doing all of the fancy footwork and playing this repertoire of Debussy or Mozart or Beethoven — kind of difficult solo music. Then there's the folk tradition. Folk harp, Celtic harp — that tradition is also very fast-paced and kind of takes the melody as the solo. For me, I always use the harp primarily to be a bed, a framework for my songs and for my singing. And I think that allowed me to be more percussive or more rhythmic with my work — and not so adherent to a certain melody. I'm a harpist, and that's what I needed when I started playing the harp. I wanted somebody who could just jam with me. And then I became that person.
Kyle Kellams: I want to direct people to find out more about your music. But I also want to ask you about Every Good Boy Does Fine, this wonderful book that you've created. What's the story behind that?
Arsenia: Every Good Boy Does Fine was the result of a fever dream. Take us all back — we were in the height of the pandemic. I realized that I had collected a bunch of stories and writings that were never going to become songs, thoughts that I thought maybe would one day, and maybe they still could. I began to do a podcast with my best friend Justin Randall called We Were Christian Kids. Justin Randall is a pretty popular poet and stand-up comedian based in New York. We grew up together doing Bible studies and whatnot in church. And through that process, we began to see a community of people who had grown up in the church who felt estranged by the church after leaving it. There's not really a community centered around people who grew up in the church and who have left, in the same way that there is a community for Christians. I felt that if the world is ending during the pandemic, if the world as we know it is over, then I would hope that there would be a story like mine in the canon of humanity. I wrote and put those stories and those poems out as a reflection of what it was truly like to be me growing up in the church as a queer person and leaving the church. And I was really sensitive to not have it be a book of accusations, or needing to tear anyone down. But it was simply what it was like to be me. It's still so sensitive to me. There are pieces in there that — my mom has purchased my book, because I didn't give it to her. It's still raw and real to me. But it's also kind of funny. I've heard it said that if somebody finds a journal, nobody really cares what's in it — the only people that care are the people you know. I just wanted to have a snapshot of what that process was like for me, so that other people who might have gone through similar things would see themselves in it.
Kellams: You are also very important, I think, in making sure other artists are heard and have a place to perform and explore. What can you tell me about — let me make sure I get the name right — the Greenwood Social Hall?
Arsenia: Yes, Greenwood Social Hall. I am the director of a small listening room in Kansas City, which mostly means that I'm answering emails and making sure that there's water in the water dispenser and that the lights are on and the sound is working and the website is up to date. But I fight tooth and nail to make sure that audiences and artists get to have an uninhibited experience of building bridges of empathy through storytelling and through song. As an artist myself, I've traveled all around the world and experienced the best and the worst in venues. I would hope that when people come to Greenwood, it just feels easy to come in, grab a drink, sit down and listen to something that could change your life forever. Most people who go to listen to live music don't get to do it very often. It's a luxury experience. Sometimes they've had to buy a new outfit, or they have a babysitter, or they've taken off time from work — they're sacrificing other parts of their life in order to be there with an artist. I take that time very seriously. From the ease of purchasing tickets to making sure that there are sturdy seats in the room, I make sure that we have the easiest route between audience and artist. It's a 60-capacity room, so it's pretty small. It was a Black Baptist church built in the 1920s and was recently renovated, about 10 years ago, into what it is today. I've been the director for just over two years, and we've had over 100 concerts in that space. I first became acquainted with the space when my friend, an artist, Peregrine Honig, was in the space before I was there, and she also hosted concerts and art openings and theater projects. I was able to record my music video for Britney Spears's "Toxic" in that space. I've already been really well acquainted with the space and have a deep relationship with it. And now that I get to be there all the time, it's a dream come true.
Kellams: You recorded with Anna Moss, who is a former Northwest Arkansas resident — now she lives in New Orleans. How did that come about? She's a wonderful, wonderful performer.
Arsenia: I think I might have met her at Bodega Day, which is the Rainbow Girls' private festival up in Bodega, California, near the bay. And if not there, then I would have met her and Joel at Folk Alliance. Anna approached me with an idea to put together an album or an EP of songs that she had written, with one cover in mind — a cover of her favorite Dorothy Ashby song, which is called "Come Live With Me." I think it's from the album Hip Harp. Dorothy Ashby is an incredible Black harpist who played in, I think, the '50s and '60s — such a brilliant instrumentalist. The song is actually from a movie called Valley of the Dolls, which is a crazy film. I watched it to do research for the album. We did a version of that song, and I got to record an EP of songs last January. The release date on that is still to be determined. But it was a beautiful experience, and we were able to release one single from that, which is a song that she wrote called "It Was Only a Dream." I'm just featured on harp, and it's just such a beautiful — I was so honored to be a part of that musical moment and to contribute some harp and to be the harpist for Anna.
Calvin Arsenia lives in Kansas City and often performs in Northwest Arkansas. We spoke in early January. "It Was Only a Dream" is the first single from his collaboration with Anna Moss, formerly of Northwest Arkansas and now based in New Orleans.
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