Last night was officially our last Lady Jane Grey show.
And I’m typing that and feeling sad, surreal, angry, happy, relieved, and excited all at the same time.
David and I have been in this weird place for several years… we put out this killer album, expecting to reach a broader audience than the first, and then heard crickets and the whooshing of tumbleweeds through our music career for the next several years.
San Antonio is not the place to live if you do original music that requires people to actually listen at your shows… there are just no venues to support such music anymore.
When the gigs came around, we played them, but the audiences weren’t there anymore, and so we ended up playing just for the sake of playing, to empty chairs.
I can’t tell you how excruciating it is to play the same, beat up old songs to empty chairs. It’s demoralizing. It sucks.
We have been wanting to do something different… we’ve been wanting to change things up artistically… but every time we’d play a gig, we’d look at each other after every song and go, “Dude! Why are we doing this? No one even cares about our music anymore! We don’t want to sing these songs anymore! No one wants to book us anymore!”
So last night we made the decision to end it. We’re beating a dead horse. It’s time to put the horse out of its misery and move on.
What’s ironic is that The New Yorker called this week and is giving us a mention in an article… a good way to go out, I guess.
And we’re very sad to see the end of LJG. It’s very much like saying goodbye to a lover… LJG has been a huge part of our lives for 12 years now. I still don’t feel like we accomplished what we wanted to accomplish, but we also don’t feel like we’re supposed to force the issue. It’s time to move on.
Those are the negatives… and I am going through a grieving at this decision… and that’s okay.
Here’s the bright side: When we started playing music, it was all we had together. It gave us something to work for as a couple. In many ways, it saved us. It fulfilled us then. And because of LJG, we have been able to do some really cool things: being in the finals for Lilith Fair, getting to play twice at Sarah Lawrence College in New York, and then at the Living Room in NYC, getting to play with October Project, playing California, being on national compilations, getting to share my music with Mary Black, and most of all, getting to touch so many hearts and lives with our songs. It’s been a great run, and we are so grateful for the opportunity to live the dream.
But today, as I sit here and write, we are in a new place of blessing and fulfillment. Our passion is no longer to “hit it big.” Our passion is now working with the teenagers that we’ve been entrusted with. And every Wednesday night, as I sit and listen to their tragic and desperate stories — parents addicted to Ice, abuse, divorce, feeling like their parents hate them, death — I know that we are supposed to be giving ourselves to these amazing kids. God has called us to do this, and this is where our fulfillment is found, and this youth ministry thing has eternal value. Our investment in these lives will live on long after our CDs have turned to dust and our songs faded from memory. This is where our focus is right now, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s where our focus is supposed to be.
Creatively, I am finding meaning in my writing, and I am planning to go back to school to further myself in this medium. David is honing his skills on drums, keys, and exploring the world of scoring for films and TV.
And our decision to end LJG DOES NOT mean that we stop doing music together. What it means is that we are praying and seeking God about what we’re supposed to do with the gifts He has given us. We do not think our music making days are over; we do believe that God has something else… something better… something new. We’re going to commit the matter to serious prayer, and trust that God will use us as He sees fit.
Let me end this with a big HUGE thank you to those of you who have followed us, supported us, prayed for us, and walked with us through this amazing journey. Thank you for buying our CDs, for coming to the shows, and giving us the opportunity to be part of your lives in a small way.
Please keep us in your prayers as we figure out the next chapter of our musical journey. And remember, this is not really the end, but the beginning of a new adventure, and we’re looking forward to discovering what that is going to turn out to be.
And hey… if Jay-Z can retire and then make a comeback six times, who’s to say we can’t either?
I love you all. Thanks for listening.
thanks for comparing yourself to jay-z.
i miss you
Jeff
October 1st, 2007
Sarah,
I must say, I’m a bit saddened at this news. Today, the world is a little less beautiful knowing you guys are not out there sharing your gift. I hope this doesn’t come off sounding trite, but your music has given me (and my family) countless hours of joy. I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times my daughter has asked me to “put on Big Sarah!” while we were driving in the car. You are an inspiration to her.
You and David are truly a special combination. His guitar playing was simply brilliant, and was a perfect complement to your talents. Your cello conveyed many emotions: somber, melancholy, sad and haunting, yet enriching and satisfying all at once. If an instrument ever was capable of weeping, you would be the one to find a way to make it happen. You may not have realized it, but you revealed much of who you are through your playing, and I haven’t even begun to describe your amazing voice. Let’s just say, I never tired of hearing you sing. Sad, yet sweet, you conveyed the thoughtfulness of your adulthood, while you revealed the shattered innocence of a young girl. Simply put, it was art, and it was beautiful.
I understand the decision, and I know that it’s a difficult one. But I also know that anyone who has experienced that unique bond with music — anyone who has allowed it’s spirit to flow through and enrich them with its presence — will never completely abandon it. It will always be a part of you. When you listen to music, you will hear things that few others can hear, and you will understand things that few others can understand. Once forged, that bond cannot be broken.
And because of this, you will find your way back to it. Maybe not in the same form, but perhaps a different one — one that will be even more fulfilling.
Take care. Say hello to David for me. I hope to see you both in the not-too-distant future.
Jeffrey Kreth
October 1st, 2007
Yay for Sarah’s writing! Yay for David’s composing! Life is so amazing… like those little Russian dolls… so much is inside of each experience, waiting to be tapped and brought forward. I’m sad for the loss of LJG but happy for your freedom to get out there and explore your creativity in new directions. I love you guys, and your journey has inspired me in all of my creative endeavors as well! THANK YOU.
S
October 6th, 2007