I told myself, from the beginning, that if these were all the memories and moments I would get…I’d be okay with that, and I would cruise on those images for the rest of my life.
On any given evening in the Whiteaker Community of Eugene Oregon, there is something good going on. People, places, and events will allow you to get lost in the culture of the night.
This sort of atmosphere can be magnified times ten during the annual Whiteaker Block Party. You could very well have the time of your life stumbling into someone’s basement party before you even have a chance to experience the local artists, crafters, food booths and musicians.
It was a hundred and five degrees during the 2015 Block Party, and upon entrance I was greeted, dare I say enchanted, with funky danceable keyboard rythyms, and a voice that did more than just catch the ears. It was a voice that spoke straight to the soul, with a hint of pain and a hint of playfulness.
Standing off to the side, I soaked in the pleasureable tunes of Makara Heart. As much as I wanted to stay and take in all the goodness Makara had to offer, I thought if this is just the beginning of the block party, I’m going to be on one hell of a journey exploring all the great things the Whiteaker had to offer.
I destined further up to the food booths, eyed up the craft booths, witnessed one generation teach break dancing to the next, checked out some other music, and said my hellos. The entire time the soundtrack playing in my head was of the exoticly crafted songs of Makara Heart. For a moment I was stunned by the fact that I could not shake how original and hypnotic she sounds. Was it possible that the first act I caught was the very best thing about the Whiteaker Block Party?
I ventured back to give her a second listen, and once again I became transfixed. After a couple more songs, and to be truthful, it could have been six songs as I was spirituality transported to a place where time did not matter, Makara stepped away from the keys.
She gave me a look from toe to head, ending her move with a flirtatious and cheeky smile.
“What’s up? ” she asked me.
“That was great! ” I replied, using every ounce of restraint that I could muster in the moment, trying not to geek out and make it look like I’ve never been anywhere or seen anything before in my life.
We chatted briefly about her music and albums for sale, of course I had to buy one!
“What’s your favorite color?” Makara questioned.
Purple was my reply, and to this day, I don’t 100 percent know why I gave that answer. I’m a blue guy, dark blue at that. The rational, practical part of me wants to say that I told her purple so as not to tell a stranger what my favorite anything was. The romantic in me, the man who enjoys nothing more than to take in a good scene would say that I chose purple so as to promote conversation further down the road. One album purchased and I made my way.
I carry the imagery of this day around in a pocket inside my brain.
It would be a while before I gave this purple tinted cd a listen to. The cover is very striking, her picture is haunting and fragile. The album sat on my shelf in front of my other music, and in a casually strange way I felt that she was looking over my other wares, protecting them from the harm of a cruel and clumsy world. “Fellas, you’re going to be okay, Makara is here to protect you. ”
Once I was able to clear my mind and give the music it’s proper due, I was absolutely taken back by the beauty of the songs. The name of the album is Bittersweet Memories, and it is absolutely gorgeous. The musical structure has an unusual listen ability to it, pulling you into the stories being told. You are given the essence of something you didn’t know you wanted to absorb.
As most artists cringe upon how others interpret their work, which is basically their soul, I will let you know that my writing skills are what would barely quality as amateur. I just know great when I hear it.
The songs are about love, love lost, beauty, and a whisper of something deeply personal and moving. I was overcome with the thought that I was so fucking sorry to hear that her heart got broke.
I told myself from the beginning, that if these were all the memories and moments I would get, I’d be okay with that
and I’m not.
That’s the poetry and romance of life.
The best is yet to come for Makara Heart