Profile by chiara neyman

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Ruth Parry sits in front of me, her image repeating infinitely in many mirrors glued to the walls of a cubicle sized room in which she teaches music. My aunt’s name is Ruth too, so when this Ruth recalls her days of youth spent behind a piano turning the pages of her sister’s sheet music, I can’t help but think of a story my mother told me which ends in tears and cover sought under a piano bench in an effort to avoid her sister.

When I imagine Ruth Parry and her sister as children, it’s not nearly as upsetting. The image is peaceful--seventies melodies spill from coal and pearl embedded in weathered oak. Ruth, a slim young girl, soft spoken, with wild brick curls and expressive eyes follows five black lines riddled with familiar silhouettes spelling chords, arpeggios, and harmonies. Mine is not a musical family. Truth be told I am a little jealous of Ruth’s musical upbringing.

Not everyone is lucky enough to have an older sister’s shoulder to read over, but Ruth was. Following along with her sibling’s Elton John scores was

only the beginning. She eventually learned to play piano, clarinet, guitar, and various exotic percussive instruments. Ruth never found a career in the entertainment industry dawning revealing meat suits or risqué pasties, she never twerked on Robin Thicke, and I don’t think she wakes up every morning feeling like P. Diddy, but Ruth has carved out her place in t h e music industry. She gigs several times a week, (fully

clothed), she teaches music at The Community School of Music and Arts at Finn Center, (CSMA), and she takes on numerous other musical jobs as they present themselves. Ruth makes an honest living in an industry with a reputation for corruption and failure.

Ruth Parry grew up in the Berkshires of Massachusetts playing clarinet. She didn’t sit at the back of a sweaty music room in her middle school pretending to play classical

while she gossiped with her peers--no. Ruth Parry was quite serious about clarinet, and she was quite good. Ruth was in the midst of being groomed to play for the Boston Pops, a highly regarded, all American orchestra in Boston which specializes in popular music. Playing with

the Boston Pops was her dream, and she was well on her way to doing just that when she hit a wall; Ruth could not hit the high notes required of leading level clarinet players. It was not until a decade and a half later that Ruth found out her jaw wasn’t properly aligned, impairing her

ability to hit notes a considerable distance above the staff. More unfortunate than the news she received, was the sad little girl who was inexplicably unallowed to grow with the music that meant so much to her.

Soon after she gave up clarinet, Ruth’s family

moved to Arizona, “which was like moving to the moon… the mountains were brown, and palm trees??

Nothing made sense. It took us a long time to adjust to desert beauty… we didn’t understand it when we got there,” (Ruth Parry.) The transition was very hard on her--in ad-

primary outlet for her frustration. She recalls, “nothing made sense. So it was nice to just go into my room and play guitar. It was very cathartic… Music really helped me,” (Ruth Parry.)

Years away from the recovering young girl in Arizona, and across the table from me, sits a grown Ruth Parry. We are at Philz Moving to Arizona “was Coffee, a gem nested in the residential streets of like moving to the Palo Alto. It was Ruth’s moon… the moun- suggestion that we meet here, and it is not a tains were brown, surprisand palm trees??

Nothing made sense.“ Ruth Parry

dition to the general loss moving brings (friends, home, temperature, comfort) Ruth experienced the loss of clarinet.

It was about this time she picked up guitar which became a

ing choice. It is very easy to draw parallels between the earthy wholesome aesthetic of Philz and that of Ruth.

Decades of experience and hard work are incapable of robbing her of youthfulness. She retains a certain level of apprehension for most of our conversation.

She is opinionated but soft spoken; there is a gentleness about her that bares semblance to a child. She hardly swears but when she chooses to emphasize an anecdote with an expletive, she cups her hands around her mouth and whispers it.

Her eyes bounce excitedly, on guard as if she sus- pects the Shit Police a r e onto her.

grammy as the kiss of death,” (Ruth Parry). The music industry as we see it is not the music industry. The music industry is every gig played for pitch, every transcription by ear, every lesson in a small mirror laden studio. Success in the music industry is defined not by the bank, but by musicianship, and dedication to the musical community. When I ask Ruth about her ambitions, she doesn’t confide aspirations of going gold, platinum, or any other element on the periodic table. Ruth wants to collaborate with new musicians. She wants to absorb and understand their cultures. Ruth Parry succeeds in the music industry by playing music.

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In talking to Ruth about the world of industry, she seems to draw a distinct line between music and entertainment. When I ask her what she could change about the music industry--trying hard avoid the implication that inclusion in the top forty is the test of a successful musician--she confidently explains to me that there are musicians and there are entertaine r s . When “making it in the music in-

dustry” comes up, a common conclusion exists that success is near impossible for honest musicians who mean to sell music instead of their body or soul. Ruth doesn’t see it that way.

When I ask her what she would like to see change in the music industry, she tells me she’s alright with it where it is. People making millions off of four chords are not selling you four chords, they’re selling you an image. You’re paying not only for the product, but for the atmosphere.

Not just for the notes they leave off, but the clothes they leave off. Ruth has no interest in competing with this. In her eyes, musicians are an entirely different breed.

“I have friends w h o see a

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Her reserve strikes me as incredibly “un-American”. She seems to agree with my diagnosis, claiming America is very rock’n’roll, something she never fully resonated with. Ruth appreciates a more subtle approach.