A New Year’s Resolution gone perfectly wrong: An ode to the kalimba

Jam sessions: the ones where you sit in a fellow twenty-something year old’s hot-boxed, heatless bedroom while they pluck the strings of their prized guitar. Friends humming along until all thoughts are lost besides the acknowledgements of impromptu sonic creation. It feels warm and welcoming to just sit and breathe in harmonious hums. It’s intimate. It’s euphoric. It’s arguably one of the best feelings to ever exist.

Well, cue the reality check. Hello 2021, You sure look a lot like 2020. There’s still a pandemic, I still can’t see most of my friends, and I still don’t have a sliver of musical talent inside of me. So, this ethereal scenario that plays loops in my head is one of the furthest things from reality. Of course, I have accepted my lack of musical skill as I assumed the position of music journalist, making my stake in the game be only as far as my laptop screen could stretch.

Admittedly, I have had the opportunity to learn an instrument for quite some time, as a guitar has been collecting dust in my childhood home for the last 8 years. When I was 13, I took about 5 guitar lessons, learned “Let It Snow” (the word “learned” here used loosely), and then proceeded to give up before I could even develop the correct calluses. Over the years, I have accepted that I am not musically gifted and that I will rely on pals and my press passes to give all of the jam sessions I could ever want. That was, until this year.

I am not usually one for New Year’s Resolutions, but if there ever was a year to challenge yourself after unprecedented uncertainty and change, it’s this one. I had my parents take the guitar out of the attic as a Christmas gift to me and I brought it back up to Berkeley with the intent to create my own jam sessions. As I prepared my fingertips and unpacked my guitar, something else happened. My boyfriend was gifted a kalimba for Christmas, and when he unpacked it, it was love at first sight.

The kalimba is a cheeky little thing. The 17 key thumb piano echoes like a lullaby from its wooden frame. It’s simple and sweet. The sales for the instrument skyrocketed in 2020 thanks to the reminder of the beauty that is the song “Avatar’s Love,” due to the series’ re-release on Netflix. You see, the kalimba asks not of you to build up strength to give it a strum, but rather begs of softness and stillness, producing a sound that suspends slowly in the air around you. It took me about half an hour to take the kalimba out of the box, search up a tutorial on Youtube, and play “Avatar’s Love” for my boyfriend and best friend. Once I finished it to my liking and had successfully filled the studio apartment with seamless notes of kalimba chords, I had unintentionally sent my housemates to a peaceful sleep. I took that as quite the compliment. It was one of the most beautiful jam sessions I had ever had.

There’s something about the very softness of the sound of the kalimba that is more important now than ever. Although I miss the rush of a concert crowd, my craving for jam sessions have been even more intense. In a year of collective trauma, turmoil, and tension, I have longed for peace. This unexpected instrument brought that to me, showing me that I could have my own jam sessions and that simplicity can be the most rewarding feeling of all.

I think we often get caught up in our cravings for extraordinary creation. While yes, learning guitar may be way more popular than the little kalimba, the simplicity and serenity in sound and style has been extremely soothing. Sometimes we think we know what we want and set these goals for ourselves. That’s why New Year’s Resolutions almost always inadvertently suck. Yet finding something new and accidental within those intentions can be far more impactful.

I now have my own jam sessions all by myself. Whether I pluck the metal keys to the tune of “You Are My Sunshine” or “La Vie En Rose,” I cultivate the same sense of euphoric intimacy that is only created by musical expression. In 2021, I resolved to be a successful musician. Thus far, I have done so by switching in calluses for calmness. Thank you, dear kalimba. I couldn’t be happier.