Through the fire and flames, live music emerges better than before

Oct. 22—He hesitates to be overly dramatic about it, because he didn't get sick or mourn the loss of a loved one. But make no mistake about it: musician Kaleb Braun-Schulz felt the impact of the pandemic.

An up-and-coming singer-songwriter, Braun-Schulz paid his bills by playing gigs. One of many such musicians in the Mankato area, he was robbed of his livelihood when live music venues were forced to shut their doors.

The toll hit his bank account, sure. But for Braun-Schulz, it went deeper than that.

"So it was like, OK, there goes all your sources of income. I mean, like, straight up I had nothing for a little bit until the government unveiled their unemployment plans," he says. "But it was a very anxious time in the beginning, for sure. And I think I probably stayed away from thinking about music for a little while."

He estimates he spent a month in a funk where he struggled to be creative.

"I didn't pay attention to my guitar as much after my last performance — which was early March 2020 — until April," he says. "It was sort of like the wind was pulled out of my sails and I was caught in such an existential angst that there was nothing that I could do. I couldn't bring myself to play music during that time, just because of the uncertainty."

The Mankato area has a lot going for it. A pizza place on every block, a handful of colleges and universities within a few minutes' drive, tons of biking trails and state parks. But one of Mankato's best amenities is its live music scene.

On any given night, you can find a cover band at Buster's, a singer-songwriter at The Wine Cafe or a polka band at the Kato Ballroom. It's part of the Mankato ethos and one of the features that gives Mankato its unique cultural patina.

When The Great Shutdown occurred, valiant efforts were made to keep the music playing. The civic center quickly put together a streaming weekly music event, as did others. But for the most part, a town boasting a vibrant local music scene was unsettlingly quiet. And while it wasn't fun for patrons, the silence was likely hardest on musicians like Braun-Schulz.

But the downtime wasn't all negative. While it's certainly not ideal for a town to have a piece of its identity go dormant, it gave musicians a chance to regroup, recharge the batteries, focus on craft and songwriting, and even center themselves a bit.

"After (the time off), I sort of was able to get acquainted with what life was like now. And then I was able to sit down and really have a reinvention of how I think about music and how I go about writing music and enjoying my time at home just playing guitar and singing to myself and my cats."

Musician and artist Amanda Wirig was between bands when the pandemic hit, which meant she didn't have a built-in group of like-minded folks to get together with and jam — socially distanced, of course.

So she says she felt a bit lost. And the more the pandemic dragged on, the harder it got.

"It was a lot harder being home alone than I thought it was going to be," she says. "I wanted to play with other people so badly and not being able to do it was really hard. I got to a point where I was playing guitar three or four hours a day. But I was playing by myself on my couch, feeling like I'm not accomplishing anything."

Now that the pandemic is over, and Wirig is with a new band — Given Names — she says that feeling of playing live is coming back stronger than ever.

"I don't think I realized how badly I missed being back out there," she says. "There's something about experiencing live music with other people that you just can't get when you're sitting at home."

This pandemic presented a danger for musicians. While the opportunities to perform live vanished, the need to practice and maintain technical skills did not.

Wirig said that, when it became clear this thing was going to drag out for a long, long time, she resolved to do whatever she could to make sure that, when everything came back, her skills were in fighting shape.

And that's exactly what happened.

"Since I was furloughed and I was stuck at home by myself, I made a to-do list every day of the things I was going to do. I was going to practice my guitar. I was going to make some art. I was going to practice my French with my language app. I was going to exercise," she says. "And I said that if I do these four things — if I don't get anything else done during the day — at least I know I'm moving forward toward where I want to be. I wanted to still have my chops when I get back out there. And I'm actually better because I've had more time to devote to practicing, and I haven't had to work around all this other stuff."

Braun-Schulz says the pandemic forced him to take a break. But by doing so he learned that his body and mind needs a respite. Had the pandemic not happened, he might not have learned that about himself. And he says taking breaks in the future will make him a better musician.

"Honestly that was a lesson I think I might carry forward," he says. "This year has been so fantastic. And it's been so great to play shows again and so excellent to be back out in the world and be so busy and meet all the people and make friends.

"But it does get overwhelming. And for me, sometimes it would be beneficial to take a little bit of time and just put it down for a bit and don't worry so much about it. I tend to get like way in my head about music stuff so it's nice to be able to put it over to the side for just a moment, then come back to it and be like, 'Oh yes, this is my favorite thing in the world.'"

As for the venues, the shutdown was hard. Live music brings in people, and those people spend money.

But it's more nuanced than that. Yes, they're spending money, but when a live band performs well an atmosphere emerges. It becomes an experience that is elevated beyond "I went to a bar and they had live music."

Instead it's "We had a great time, that band was amazing and I can't wait to see them again."

Jeni Bobholz, owner of the Circle Inn, was one of the venues that tried doing live-streaming of music when the pandemic hit.

She says live music has become embedded in the Circle Inn experience, and the place just wasn't the same without it. And when it came back, it was like a burst of energy.

"Once we were finally able to have people outside, we did as much music as we possibly could, and all these local artists were just so excited to get back at it," she says.

"I had some that said 'Hey, it's free of charge. I just want to play.' Others said 'I'll take anything.' You could just see the excitement on people's faces once we finally had it back. Then it was like 'Things are gonna be OK."

Bobholz says things probably will never get back to the normal of pre-COVID times. But it's getting better. In fact, in many ways, it's already there.

"It's not back to 2019, you know, but just kind of that feeling of like, you sometimes pinch yourself and you're like, 'What happened to the last year?'" she says.

"Last weekend and this last month I've just really felt like we're somewhat kind of back to normal. A new normal."