Hopefully, this does not come as a shock to anyone, but sooner or later, you’re going to die. The how and why of it might leave a little wiggle room but, without exception, you and everyone you know will eventually shuffle off this mortal coil. It’s something of an inevitability. The good news: what happens next is largely up to you.
That’s not a pitch designed to entice you into whatever brand of afterlife awaits you in the hereafter, but another kind of immortality altogether.
Terra Spencer is already well known as a Nova Scotian folksinger. In certain circles, however, she’s known for an entirely different skillset: seeing people off into the sunset of their lives as a funeral director. Spencer says that those two worlds are overlapping with the increasing popularity of “legacy songs”: bespoke anthems to help the deceased and deceasing make their final exeunt while avoiding going gentle — or at least not going quietly — into that good night.
“Music and funerals have been woven together for much of my life,” says Spencer who, when not strutting and fretting about the stage, regularly works as a funeral director.
“Before I was a performing musician or a licensed funeral director, I worked for ten years as the resident organist at a small privately-owned funeral home in Summerville, Hants County, Nova Scotia, the community where I grew up.”
In the seven years since she began both touring as a singer and working as a funeral director, Spencer says that the conversation and curiosity about death and dying have steadily grown among the people she’s met. Naturally, as the center point of this peculiar Venn diagram, it comes up.
“It doesn’t come as a surprise to me that younger people are thinking about death during a global pandemic,” says Spencer. “I think most of us have had a heightened sense of the precarious nature of our health over the past year, coupled with added strain on mental health, concerns for our family and friends, and unprecedented (sorry for that word) feelings of isolation.”
What she has encountered while circling this Venn diagram is an interest in further customizing our departure from this world with legacy songs — leaving in our wake (or more often, post-funeral) a keepsake memory, message, and melody.
While it’s not unusual to go about the business of preparing a will, or even picking out a final resting place for your body once you’re done with it, commissioning a legacy song hasn’t quite entered the mainstream just yet. It’s still the sort of thing one might associate with some serious aristocratic Renaissance-era flex, or Sir Elton’s rendition of “Candle in the Wind” for Princess Diana’s funeral, Mozart’s Requiem (a commission which he became convinced he was writing for his own funeral), or David Bowie’s final and brilliant masterpiece, Black Star. Until recently, this generally hasn’t been the territory of us mere mortals but it’s certainly not an entirely new idea either.
“It’s hard to document the origin point for music as a means of grieving, but the case can certainly be made as far back as the Psalms,” notes Spencer.
Grieving is one thing, but immortalizing yourself with an earworm is something else entirely. What better way to hold a place in the hearts and minds of your friends and family than with a jingle from beyond the grave? You’ll be remembered forever, or at least with the same sort of longevity as the Oscar Mayer Weiner. Don’t you deserve that much?
However, Spencer explains that these are decidedly not theme songs brazenly announcing your arrival at the Pearly Gates and designed to sing your praises for a life well lived to the still-living.
“They usually seek to capture the bright points and uniqueness of a lifetime, often focused on the relationships with family and friends,” says Spencer. “More than an obituary set to music, I think the message of many legacy songs speaks to those left to carry the torch. What lessons and love can be paid forward.”
As is the nature of folksongs, Spencer is well-versed in the art of biographical lyrics but admits she hadn’t known about “legacy songs” as a proper concept before meeting musician Ian McCartor of California, a regular practitioner and expert of the bespoke post-mortem melodies, during the Folk Alliance virtual panel earlier this year. Prior to that, Spencer had simply been stepping up to the plate as duty required.
“I had already been in the practice of writing songs that were not autobiographical, and had been deliberately cautious about not borrowing too much from the lives encountered in funeral work, out of respect,” says Spencer.
“For one particular service where I was asked to sing a song, I just couldn’t find the right fit, so I wrote one instead. The family had no idea what song would be fitting, so I offered to write one using their stories and memories of their father.
“For a family to commission a legacy song, I think it is because we want to seek out a unique way to preserve and share the memory of someone we loved, beyond a headstone lined up in a row with the rest. A song is alive every time it is played or heard.”
When it comes to the matter of someone commissioning their own song—and presumably guitar solos and pyrotechnics are not completely off the table—Spencer says that it usually comes from a desire to expresses certain feelings that might be difficult to verbalize on their own. Better late than never, though, right?
A legacy song isn’t so much a last-minute musical Hallmark Card designed to get that last word in (but again, let’s not rule anything out), rather it can provide an intangible keepsake to be experienced in ways that your grandmother’s fine china never will.
“Making decisions about the physical things we leave behind can be very hard—we want to be fair, and not leave our loved ones with a burden of stuff to be dealt with. A song gives and lasts without needing care.”
Needless to say, when it comes to legacy songs, like all final wishes, anything goes. The details on your life’s end-of-service contract should be just as unique as your life was. If you feel that you need to sign off with a song there’s absolutely no need to follow in the dusty steps of the infinite “Amazing Grace”s that have gone before you. There are options available—no longer limited to the rich and famous—and trained professionals who are prepared to put you on the right track.
With that in mind, Spencer has occasionally been offering workshops with end-of-life doulas to guide families through their grief and the mortally challenged with the inevitable.
“We hope this will be a chance for people to ask questions and share their own thoughts and experiences, particularly at a time when loss, fear, and grief have taken on a different scale and scope in our lives,” says Spencer. “I hope these workshops will be a safe space to explore difficult feelings, consider options for the inevitable, and see beauty in what we leave behind.”
Registration for all events is by donation, email info@musicincommunities.com to hold your spot.