Earlier
this year I rediscovered a CD titled Considering
Lilies, an album of Christian music written and performed by a sister duo
by that name. I started listening to it whenever in the driver’s seat, and
became particularly fond of the first five tracks. It was neat to find a set of
vibrantly uplifting messages set to modern-yet-not-blandly-predictable accompaniment,
and I gradually found it to be a great deal of fun to sing along to as well.
While
listening to “Beautiful You,” the second of the album’s tracks, I had the
unusual experience of hearing a musical line in my head that had not been
perceived by my ear. This half-heard harmony kept recurring whenever I listened
to the song – and so, one afternoon, driving along with the wind whipping about
and the road whizzing beneath me, I made a tentative attempt at singing that
line. And it worked.
Most of it,
that is. A few notes sounded pretty off. And so, disheartened and abashed, I
stopped singing, preferring to listen in silence to the recording unmarred by
the dissonance of my attempted addition.
But then a
flash of thought appeared in my mind, challenging the deeply-rooted perfectionistic
mindset I carry throughout nearly all aspects of life.
“Zopers,
think about this for a moment. There’s a chance, you know, that you don’t have
to get this right the first time ‘round. If you try out a harmony and it doesn’t
work out, guess what happens? The recording keeps right on going, and you can
move along with it and try it again differently the next time. There is no
living person in this vehicle to be jarred by a sour note – and there is no true
reason why you ought to be embarrassed in front of yourself. It’s okay to slip
up, it’s acceptable to play around – to state it simply, it is alright to not
be perfect.”
I do
realize that this mental monologue of self speaking to self is a statement of
the obvious and that it ends up sounding rather cliché. To me, however, it was
truly a brand new thought. This concept that I can experiment with harmonies,
try to vocalize what I hear in my head, add on to what already exists... and
that I need not keep a record of how many times I “messed up” before “finally
getting it”... that, in the end, they’re just sound waves floating through the
car, not getting in anybody’s way – and not
condemning me.
Thus inspired
I continued on my way, singing along and translating thought to sound. And it
was fun. And, when all was said and done, it even sounded good.
This post discovered in draft from October 2015 It was ten at night... all were winding down and getting settled into bed. From my room, I heard Dad playing a particular tune on his phone. Within the first two measures, the house was filled with excited clamor as all four brothers scuttled to the music. 'Twas a Baby Elephant Stampede. :]
"Bright" is one of the few bits of
music I highly enjoy without quite being able to analyze and categorize.
While not particularly expressive of lasting
commitment, the lyrics have a sweet innocence about them... a simplicity and
sincerity which, compared with the garbage of far too many other songs, is most
refreshing.
This song has a cool breezy vibe to it, but
of a sort that I find difficult to assign to a particular season. The softness of spring and the carefree attitude of summer are most clearly felt, yet the camaraderie of fall and the piercing precision of winter are represented as well.
Sooo I wrote an English Dance tune this morning... now I have to scour my MP3 collection and search the internet and inquire of dancing folk to find out where I've heard it before. :} It's kinda' sad, being so entirely unoriginal that the best I can hope for is to inadvertently copy someone else's genius... ...have other tune writers had this problem?!
(great thing) x (great thing) x (great thing) = (great thing)3 = exponential enjoyment Poor mathematics, I know, given that what I describe in the following post is more like addition than multiplication... but surely you understand my sentiment. :] Great Thing #1 I was first exposed to Lord Alfred Tennyson's poetic narrative "The Lady of Shalott" as a little girl watching Anne of Green Gables. One part of the movie that always stood out to me was Anne Shirley's dramatic reenactment of the voyage of the Lily-Maid. You know, the part where she drifts across the pond in an oarless skiff, encounters a major leak, clings to a bridge support for dear life, and inadvertently traumatizes her friends by her apparent untimely death until returning to them unharmed, having been rescued by Gilbert Blythe... that part. ;] Being immersed in the reenactment-gone-awry, I never took much note of the original poem being acted out, but very much enjoyed this humorous scene. That being said, in more recent times I have read several of Tennyson's other poems and have felt an immediate fondness for them. Tennyson's skill in the crafting of words is enthralling. Great Thing #2 I've long loved the artwork of John William Waterhouse, particularly "Miranda - The Tempest" and "Windflowers". Though I've been intrigued by his painting "The Lady of Shalott" since first seeing it in a pocket-sized art book, it was only this week that I learned Waterhouse had painted not one, not two, but three scenes from Tennyson's poem. Oddly enough, the title figure's appearance is not consistent within this trio - her hair color and clothing styles change drastically between scenes, and her facial features are altered so far as to indicate the portraits being of entirely different maidens. Still, each one of Waterhouse's paintings is beautifully detailed and full of feeling - very much a pleasure to view and to contemplate. [Note: my current favorite Waterhouse painting, "'I am half sick of shadows,' said the Lady of Shalott", concludes this post for your further viewing enjoyment.] Great Thing #3 I've been listening to the music of Loreena McKennitt for as long as I can remember - and, in all likelihood, longer still. :] Her album The Book of Secrets is a favorite of mine, though it was comparatively recently that I began to appreciate the poetry of "The Highwayman" and ceased to be disquieted by the melancholy tale it presents. Loreena McKennitt's singing style is a magical blend of dulcet clarity and shadowed mystery; her music is a realm of bittersweet visions brought to life by haunting melodies and entrancing vocalizations. I'll leave you to deduce whether I'm fond of her recordings. :] Three long-time favorites. Lord Alfred Tennyson - a potent poet. John William Waterhouse - a poignant painter. Loreena McKennitt - a superlative singer. Years after being introduced to each of these artists individually, I've happened upon a lovely combination of some of their finest works. Words do not do justice to my delight. :]
Disclaimer: a characteristic common to several of the paintings used in this slideshow is apparel made of semi-transparent material and/or with wide drooping shoulder lines.
As in all things, viewer discretion is advised.
The Lady of Shalott by Lord Alfred Tennyson On either side the river lie
Lend me your ears! (to which the obvious response is neither a borrower nor a lender be - but I digress.) I commend you for your patience in awaiting another magnificent musical manuscript. And I condemn you for your total indifference with regards to the same. (Loan oft loses both itself and friend...)
I might possibly write more if there were an interest amongst readers. There might possibly be an interest amongst readers if I wrote more. (To write, or not to write... THAT is the question.)
Last Sunday I was contentedly completing a homework assignment for the music theory class I'm in, when suddenly I noticed that I'd repeatedly broken one of the fundamental rules of writing suspensions. (Incidentally, the whole point of the exercise was to use suspensions...)
Ordinarily, I'd find such a failure upsetting.
In this instance, I rejoiced.
It provided the perfect excuse for writing three paragraphs full of movie references. :]
The text from above, enlarged for your convenience and viewing enjoyment:
Not the most intellectual of posts, this... but then, which of mine ever has been? ;)
I found it amusing, anyway, and thus deemed it worthy of posting.
Additional Note: I just now noticed that I also neglected to read the directions fully, and thus wrote the exercise for four voices rather than the three called for. :}