Music speaks to me – no, sings to me – reaches a deep place. A place so hidden words alone fail to descend. Melodies carry the words abseiling down…
Especially in deeply sad times.
No words. What can you say?
Somewhere, perhaps everywhere, He sends down packages of quavers and demisemiquavers. His elves string them together, interspersing notes with pretty poetry, nuancing them with deep vibratos and abrupt pizzicatos, seaming them together over endless nights of unromantic tweakingrecordingmixing…
Sometimes it surprises me that there are so many of these music people around. It surprises me because I sometimes think music becomes same old same old. Same old same old. Stale money making. Maybe it is my soul that is tired.
I get pleasantly surprised when magic still happens…often. These people weave moving, grand, funny tales through music frivolous and sombre…it just…goes beyond my presumptuous calculations of the amount of talent the world can hold.
Well not just talent; flavours of the soul, more like. Different shades, weights, textures…The generosity of their music…unexpected.
The melodies come…floating down. Snowflake-like, gentle. Soothingly transient. Or jolting cold. Oh just ignore for a while the existence of heavy metal. Sorry. (:
How do you listen to the foretaste of music and not know, not guess at an eternity?