Artists Who Inspire
Leah Siegel
This is a story about a creator- a musician, singer, writer, and performer whose gift transcends categorizing (although Alt, Soul, Pop, Indie and soulfully sultry are popular). She’s been praised by Prince and Sting, performed alongside Kesha, Zoe Kravitz, Karen Elson, Nina Persson, Rain Phoenix, Citizen Cope and so many others; released a few albums (Firehorse & Leisure Cruise), and won a Clio for her song, If You Don’t Want To Be Alone.
But that’s not this story.
“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.””
Yes, creativity is like that, all “entrances and exits” as Leah says, quoting her husband’s view on life. I myself, prefer to describe the creator’s experience as a fluid state of contradictions, a progression of little surrenderings which inevitably lead to a lifelong cycle of reinvention. Accommodating impermanence is just what we do.
It was the winter of 2018 when a researcher at Weill-Cornell Center for End of Life Care invited me to collaborate on a grant supporting end-stage conversations. Just as a few ideas begin moving through the organizational approval process, I heard about an indie musician in Brooklyn who wrote a suite of songs on death. Sounds promising, I clicked the link. A few strokes of the strings, followed by a voice. Like a reporter chasing a breaking story, I had to meet her.
In the early 80’s, I landed the job of Art Director at RCA Records while continuing to freelance for other labels. Having insider access to NY’s music scene was a quite a privilege, and I took advantage of every perk. Along the way, I learned how to spot talent.
The window table at Grounded in the West Village offered an ideal perch to both the street and the door. Her entry invokes a suspension in time. Riveted by her magnetic vulnerability we drop right into story. Leah transports us back in time to Burning Man, “the biggest party on the planet.” There, grieving the loss of her cherished band partner, her dog, and with a 7-year relationship on life support, she tumbles head first into something she called the death vortex. “I was stuck in an alternate reality, devastated and needing comfort. It was right after that these songs began pouring out.” Then, she hands me the earphones to her phone, hits play and watches (me). About a minute in, her eyes soften as tears stream down my face.
“I found that a year after Tim died, the profound grief still remained. Of all the things we teach, of all the tools we use to set ourselves up for a good life, we do such a bad job with end of life. It’s a real problem...the only thing death denial does is set us up for a life of anxiety...fear of the unknown, fear of loss, fear of grief.”
That day on Jane Street, Leah talked about how her art was very much in transition. “I’m going to keep making music,” she said, “but after watching audiences react in the way they did to these songs, the game changed. I never felt responsible for how people reacted to my music until I started performing the songs that flowed out of me after Tim’s death. It became very clear that this music is a service— I’m in service. It’s incredibly powerful, purposeful, and I feel 100% responsible.”
Before parting, she invited me to a screening of The Infinite Hotel, directed by Michael Joseph McQuilken. In this clip, Leah performs her original song, Death Is Not The End from her forthcoming album, Lullabies for Adults.
I’ve seen her in concert a few times since then. The visceral impact of her musicality is both dazzling and hypnotic. Most recently, I happened upon her IG post singing Dream A Little Dream of Me- a tune which holds enormous meaning for me as I sang it to my infant daughter every night.
Learn more about SPAR CARDS and Leah’s ETF practice by clicking here: https://leahsiegel.co/
The last time we spoke we talked about her EFT practice and SPAR CARDS, a couple’s therapy tool she developed. “I’m in a really good place," she said, “so much of being human is just letting go.” Indeed.
NOTE TO SELF: Make sure my end-of-life documents state that I’d like Leah Siegel to be the last voice I hear before letting go.