As I was walking across the road to the Rhyme and Reason Brewery in Wanaka, a woman rushed up to me.

“I saw you playing in the concert at the weekend. You’re a real musician!"

I took her comment in the spirit in which it was intended as I internally laughed my way into the Brewery. This woman regularly attends the Creative Juices open mics at the Rhyme and Reason. She’s seen me perform on multiple occasions, including my shifting from singer-songwriting on the guitar to mostly playing the cello. She has sung along and clapped enthusiastically to my songs, like “Open the Door” (a song of cats), "Squashed Frog" (depression in a road-flattened frog) and “Green Bacon” (how love can be like bacon left too long in the fridge). However, she didn’t think I was a real musician until she saw me perform orchestral music.

It could well be my performances at the open mic are sufficiently amateur that no one would think I am a ‘real’ musician from them. However, I don’t think that was the issue, from having a further chat at the venue. This woman sees classical music as a real test of musicianship; classical music is harder.

At the classical concert in question, I was not feeling like my playing was a mark of my musicianship. Our orchestra was woefully underprepared, an issue lamented by many of us. We hadn’t had enough time to practice some difficult works. In particular, we played a Fauré Requiem where the notes for each piece are reasonably straightforward but the intermixing of the melodies and rhythms are complex. If you get lost when playing the Fauré, you can't find your way back in for many bars. Am I a ‘real’ musician if I am playing ‘real’ music badly?

The ‘real’ music question has long been in my mind. As a child, I played classical music exclusively, influenced by my parents. Mum and Dad didn’t listen to popular music. I assumed the view that classical music must be somehow superior to popular music without ever thinking it through. My brother was not similarly influenced – he gave up playing the violin when he was thirteen and revelled in David Bowie, Ice House and Pink Floyd.

When I went to University and got a broader view of the world and my cohort, I started listening to popular music. I  gave up playing classical music as the cello was inconvenient and there were many other activities competing for my time, including tramping and skiing. I did a not-unusual volte face, and stopped listening to classical music entirely, considering popular music more ‘real’ because that was what the majority of my world listened to.

When I took up singer-songwriting during COVID, I wasn’t considering what was ‘real’ or not. I was focused on story telling and re-entering music in some form – these two combined well in singer-songwriting. I started that journey by learning guitar as a chordal instrument suitable to sing with; I didn’t think singer-songwriting on the cello was a possibility.  I was also prejudiced against playing the cello again because I didn’t think I could reach the level of performance I’d previously been capable of and I’d be perpetually frustrated by my own playing.

Luckily, my friend Iona gave me a cello she no longer played and I reconsidered. I’d lost many parts of my technique but not all and I liked the sound I could make. Why not give cello a go again? Several people in Queenstown had mentioned there was a dearth of cello players in the region. I thought it could be a way to meet people. I bought a better cello off TradeMe and started my return. After 6 months, I was enjoying being in the Queenstown Party Orchestra and I wondered whether I could use cello in my songwriting. Now, nearly 2 years on, writing songs to sing with the cello has expanded the way I think about and carry out songwriting. I feel like my cello and voice interweave, while my guitar sits beside my voice. Quite likely that’s because cello feels native, in the way of activities from childhood, while guitar is always going to feel like something I more recently learned to do.

However, coming back to the ‘real’ music. Do I feel more ‘real’ when playing orchestral music than my own music? No. I love the process of writing my own music – getting a song from idea to performance is similarly satisfying to envisaging and building a house, though thankfully quicker. I feel there’s nothing more ‘real’ than creating music that is an expression of yourself. I also very much enjoy playing with other people and the challenge of nuanced orchestral music – classical music plays with tempo and volume in a way that’s not normal in popular music. Classical music reminds me of all the different ways I can use my bow and fingers to create different musical effects, which I carry through into songwriting.

So is there any ‘real’ music? I’m reminded of Dad’s insistence that only painting and sculpture are real art while mosaic making, or collage, or quilting, are ‘craft’. I objected to this, loudly and vociferously – all forms of artistic practice are art! We had to agree to disagree. I’ll say the same about music. No particular form of music is more real than any other. It’s all real to the players and the audience and it’s all equally important.