Because of a chronic shoulder injury, I regularly visit a massage therapist. Because the shoulder injury is made worse by guitar playing and lugging around gear, my massage therapist (Jen) knows that I’m a folk musician. It’s also inescapably obvious in some ways; we often exchange running commentary about the (impressively awful) music that is played in the background at the massage place, so she knows I can’t help but pay attention to music. When I came in the other day for my massage she said “I met someone who knows you!” Turns out that, at the other place she works, someone came in who lives out of state (Nashville) but was in the area to play a show. That person mentioned during the process that she was a folk musician. Jen at that point told me she thought “well, I know Beth is a folk musician; how many folk musicians can there be?” and so said “Oh, one of my regular clients is a folk musician, maybe you know her?” What are the odds, right? I mean, sure, folk is not an enormous field, but two folk musicians who live in different parts of the country, especially when one of them (me) isn’t even doing it full time? But, yes. I’ll maintain her privacy, but she indeed knows me, and said “Oh yes – she’s great!” and went on to explain how we knew each other. I think my legitimacy as a musician rose in the eyes of my massage therapist . . . And meanwhile, this other folk musician apparently had a similar reaction to the music than I did – an inability to tune it out. Which goes to show that it really is a professional hazard to be unable to ignore music in the background or to keep it (and therefore apologies for the title of this blog post) from running through your head.