Flapper Girl Blogs: Erin McDougald, Jazz Vocalist: "Home" is where the HEART is; Chicago headliners, Miss McDougald & Ms Jordan Tackle NYC

"I'm going to be making records anyway, even if I have to sell 'em out of the trunk of my car. I'm that kind of a musician" ~Dolly Parton

The first time I met Diva Lynne Jordan was 2005 at Green Dolphin Street. She perched herself at the corner of the bar, in front of the "substitute stage" where my little trio was positioned. The room, thankfully, was packed; unfortunately, the main stage and large room was occupied for a private event, so I was forced to sing in the bar area where the club's shrill doorbell diiiiiiiiiiiiing noise would pierce through every few bars of acoustic music as the front door opened with new patrons, looking for a seat. This wore on my nerves like a fly buzzing in the ear of an insomniac. The deftly out of tune upright piano literally had FORKS inside of it-- I'm not kidding, lost silverware was heaped inside a wooden piano! I still shutter. But people clamored to hear us, many nights (some, it was a graveyard, truth be known)... People stayed until the last set, if not the last note. Ms. Jordan did not. If memory serves, I think she was there to pick up money owed to her from a previous engagement as she too was a regular performer in the notorious, seedy-run, well-attended, over-the-top nightclub-- the owners had a habit of "forgetting" to pay the musicians now and then. When I introduced myself to her and thanked her for coming, she was pleasant but her demeanor conveyed she was not at all impressed by me. I became immediately that much more insecure. Singers. [Sigh]. I had known who she was for years, but it was apparent she had only heard of me through the staff at the club. I smile as I write this because she is a very dear, inspiring friend now.

Fast forward to 2009. I am the esteemed headliner at the famous Allerton on Michigan Avenue

and I look out into the audience on a Wednesday night (not well attended, but a great night musically, that showcased the wonderful Kimberly Gordon as my featured guest), and I see THE Lynne Jordan, in a sexy booth, by herself, sipping a Manhattan, if I'm not mistaken, and smiling with this look of... well... approval?! On my break, I go to her and in the absence of self-restraint, I throw my arms around her and say "I cannot believe it's you! Thank you SO MUCH for being here to hear me!". She was immediately amused by this. Perhaps it was the fact that I snuggled into her booth and up against her like I was her long lost baby sister and just... stayed there... as I asked how she was... as if we were... well, sisters. She had never heard of our sister-singer Kimberly Gordon. I was shocked. She enjoyed her. I was thrilled. From that day forward, a friendship and a sisterhood of song forged between Ms Jordan and this Flapper Girl. She may or may not recall these details. She has many admirers. I am but one of them.

Why am I taking you down memory lane? Over the years, I have found solace in the support --REAL SUPPORT-- I have received from the artist I am writing about. She has shown me kindness and loving compassion during times of personal crisis, and she has made me feel lucky to be alive any time I have attended one of her shows. She sings with her WHOLE heart. She gives her WHOLE entity. She reveals her vulnerability and her -I'm sorry- HYSTERICAL awkwardness as in the time at City Winery Chicago in April of this year when a full house is screaming as she enters the stage in a 1920's feathered hat, and her first words were "Thank fucking god you people showed up". I love her for her honesty, her bravery and her ruby voice of fire. I love the way she looks out for her band members, before herself-- always... as if she almost thinks she is lucky they work with her, when the truth is, as talented as they are, she has afforded them unique, musically (and monetarily) rewarding opportunities for which they should be forever grateful. I love the way she understands people-- her audience, her employers and herself. She knows how to promote herself without sacrificing her character. She knows how to sing a Rolling Stones song ("Sympathy for the Devil"-- her version gives me chills!) without apprehension. She is an entertainer. But she is also a very complete, sincere and aphoristic individual that can both dominate and captivate an interaction from the stage or in conversation. She has talents beyond her admission. And I am so grateful she is my friend and proud she is someone that believes in me and my dreams to be a singer of "substance" to the world.

The first week of July, two Chicago name-singers are appearing in Manhattan as headliners. Tuesday July 2nd, Lynne Jordan will be unveiling her Chicago-praised Nina Simone concert at City Winery of NYC and four nights later, yours truly will be headlining the well-known Metropolitan Room of NYC on Saturday, July 6th at 9:30pm. Our shows, though very divergent in material and style, have something of a commonality: it is Independence Day between both of our debuts at these venues... Lynne Jordan, gloriously interpreting the music of a HIGHLY independent American icon (I saw her show in Chicago- it is FABULOUS), Nina Simone, and Erin McDougald, the once-ballerina-turned-serious-jazz-artist, performing original jazz compositions and -challenging- obscure songs by jazz greats with some of New York City's most respected luminaries in a show called DON'T WAIT UP FOR ME... has bridged the gap of dreamer-divas and song-sisters and carried the thoroughfare of Chicago's talent into an east coast niche. We are both independent women who live our lives through and for music. We have both sacrificed a lot to be able to live this life of low-acknowledgment, dodgy pay, and self-doubt. But we belong to no one. We sing what we love and we say why we love it and we garnish the songs an audience may or may not know with our individuality-- an ingredient so many in the commercialized world of entertainment have forsaken. We pay our own way across country and persuade musicians to be gracious with what we can afford to pay them while we work for the door, and we feel... lucky... that we have people who will pay $10, $15, $20, $30... $100 for a show to see us for 70 minutes while, all the while, we intrinsically think "I hope I am making them happy". Whereas artists have crystalized the definition of narcissism in some ways, we paradoxically define the ultimate desire to make others happy. It's sick, I know. And I am constantly shamed by understanding this about myself -ha- but... no great artist ever existed without (secretly or not), vying for the approval, if not desire to alleviate the sadness of others through his or her art. I realize the porn industry brings instant gratification and the music industry brings long lines of waiting (if we are lucky!) for clothed "entertainment", but nonetheless, there is a basic human connection that music engenders between strangers.