Tag: music

I love music. That’s not to say I crave noise, often music with bigger gaps between the notes is more effecting than the rattle & hum of a rocking dopamine fest. Though that can be good too!

I’ve blogged naive thoughts about music before. Search ‘music‘.

Psychologist Steven Pinker wrote, “music is auditory cheesecake, an exquisite confection crafted to tickle the sensitive spots…” – what would we do without cake!

Others have said music gratifies our pattern-seeking impulse… what would we do without ‘pattern’, or constructed meaning, or some form of tangible narrative.

Enough! I know not what I do.

But I do like to make a slice of cheesecake. All be it with bits in, far from perfect, and not fit to serve to the connoisseur.

I do it for personal therapeutic reasons. Yes, it reaches other levels when it can be shared and others can enjoy the experience, and likewise when you can share in others’ communal cake!  But for now, it’s a personal thing that helps to keep me sane.

When the day that lies ahead of me, seems impossible to face, when someone else instead of me, always seems to know the way…
Then I look at you, and the world’s alright with me, and I know it’s gonna be…

Homemade cheesecake:

It’s not always sunny and calm… whatever you’re going through… I wish you well!

More homemade cheesecakes here: Julesprichards SOUNDS

I am not a ‘classical music’ fanatic. I know very little about the history of music, composers or the political or social relevance of ‘classical’ music creations. I can imagine for the creators, there is a lot of loaded significance behind, underneath and inside many compositions. Perhaps I might dig deeper at some point. But it’s the raw essence of some classical music that I find wonderfully powerful. I have heard it suggested that a definition of ‘classical’ music… is that it transcends cultural, as well as generational barriers… music that’s created through sincere devotion, not through selfish desire, but rather by something greater, which exists beyond time, history or culture. Golly gosh!  When you hear a musicologist say “it’s a ravishingly beautiful piece of music … and we can’t quite understand why…” that’s the kind of thing that makes music special.  What has struck me over the last few years is the power of music to affect. 

I am a fan of a radio series ‘Soul Music’ on BBC Radio 4. A series about pieces of music with a powerful emotional impact. The programmes highlight ordinary people’s stories about a variety of popular and classical tracks and how they have been significant in their lives. I hesitate to recommend, give it a listen!

Yes, I am still a fan of popular music, and cherish the memories of music from my childhood and through my student years. Music that ranges from rock and roll’s Sun Sessions, Eddie Cochran, through Adam and the Ants, Hothouse Flowers, through The Proclaimers, Oasis, REM, through Paul Simon and Eva Cassidy, through Bugge Wesseltoft and Jon Hopkins. Too many to list (think MMU 1990’s Student Union end of term disco, courtesy of pop fanatic Vicky Richardson). If you imagine how much music has sifted through your synapses, it’s a rich smorgasbord of delights and memories! 

I am thankful that in my early years I experienced music and specifically ‘song’ as part of everyday life, and I can associate music with memories of people, promises, hopes and times gone by. I fear young people today might not experience ‘song’ quite as we did. But what do I know?

A lot of popular music is imbued with the culture of the time. We personally load music with memories and experiences in our lives…  That’s what we relish when we are young. We have an exciting appetite to consume and soak up our surroundings. This is good, and I hope the music and culture our young people encounter continues to nourish and fertilize their lives. I hope it grows and stays rich and varied and does not become formulaic pulp.

But I am middle-aged and though I still enjoy new-culture I sometimes feel my mind is full, my sponge is saturated, my canvas is bursting with signs, symbols and signifiers… After the events of 5 years ago, I have got through things in part by taking a step back and breathing again. Like a form of indigestion, I had to stop, walk away from the table and rethink my cultural appetite and cerebral diet. I had to ship into harbour and re-rig. Cut out the noise and listen again!

In years past, I would never have predicted that I might habitually listen to Radio 3!  But, I have to admit, for about three years, my morning routine has seen me listening to (fellow Cornishman) Petroc Trelawny’s selections on ‘Breakfast‘ on BBC Radio 3.

As I cycle my 45mins to work, endorphins cause the abstract combination of musical compositions accompanying the fresh air, wildlife, seasons (sun, rain, wind, snow) and the things and people I meet, to become more than the sum of their parts. Combine {insert random piece of music} with a sunrise, a river, wildlife, a friendly ‘morning!’ fresh air, cardiovascular exercise and helpful neurochemicals, and you have a hint towards life in all its fullness.  

The above doesn’t seem so easy on the way home, it’s just as the day starts that it seems more possible to glimpse something true before the business of the day kicks in, before the popular noise takes over…

So in the words of a cheesy (we all need a little cheese) pop song “Thank you for the music…”.

As The Inkspots sang “I don’t want to set the world on fire…”.

As Liam O’maonlai and friends  “some people jive when they hear music start, others just kneel…”.

As Mr Brown sang “have a funky good time…”

…But, before you crank up your musical choices, take a pause, unclench your fist, and take a listen to something else outside of the popular media…

As Tchaikovsky wrote…

Who can miss the blossom? I wonder do we all notice it? I think we do. Even the most hardened amongst us sense the growth outside at (almost) Springtime.

You may have noticed that my bike commute pictures have recently taken second place, as my mind has been occupied with learning lines (more on that another time). But last Friday, I shelved the script for a day and returned back to Mr. Trelawny at Breakfast.  An early morning cycle to work, accompanied by the day waking, the sun rising, wildlife scurrying, geese soaring, breakfasts cooking, people greeting… all this, and the fresh air is enough to lift the spirits daily! But accompaniment by music often adds another level to the experience.

You may recall that my headphones leave my ears clear to hear anything from my surroundings, the sound is transmitted through the skull, the node sits just on the cheekbones.

Usually, the radio is just a nice accompaniment to the waking day, but often a piece of music will coincide with a hill, a stream, a dart of geese, the sun over the lake… and the experience is amplified. The physical experience of riding through an environment, together with the musical experience, transcend the normal.  It’s hard to explain, but when it happens, it is incredible.

This week it was a piece played on @PetrocTrelawny ‘s BBC Radio 3 Tuesday morning programme that caused me to stop. The piece was called Flowering Jasmine composed by Georgs Pelēcis in 2007. Specifically, it’s the start that might capture you. It begins with a resonant plucked bass and some sensational minimalist vibraphone. You can hear and see it played via the link below.  Sometimes the music alone is not enough, it’s the experience of the music together with a bespoke experience within our environment, an experience both physical and cerebral, that cause a reaction.

I would never have predicted that I would listen to regular BBC Radio 3 (except I have listened to its Late Junction for decades now), but its Morning Program is often quite eclectic, and if you can put up with the 10% that might seem predictable output, it’s a great accompaniment to the day.  More on Music here: ‘music’

Back to the flowering blossom that is all around, us early this year… ?

Lent is almost upon us and in a break to tradition (or habit) I am giving up Lent for Lent this year. For many years I have followed a specific contemplative Lent practice with an online community over the 40 days. This year however, I have (almost) decided to not do the default thing. I am going it alone (I think). We might venture away from the constructed routine, to a desert/wild-erness space, alone?

The jasmine in our garden is far from flowering but is showing signs of life.

Here’s violinist Gidon Kremer performing Flowering Jasmine by Georgs Pelēcis in Berlin in 2017.

#Beautiful

If music be the food of love, we are spoilt for choice, and we should be pretty much loved-up to the dolly’s wax! – Perhaps that’s one of society’s problems, surfeit, sickness and death of true music/love? Anyway, don’t get me started.

Over the last few years, I have unintentionally been through a sort of musical detox, and I’ve found myself withdrawn from popular musical consumption. Partly ‘cos I just lost taste for, and enjoyment of, what I was hearing. Partly a mid-life shifting. Also, we are all experiencing a move from the ‘ownership of music’, the purchasing of records, CD and MP3s to the streaming of music: where we can listen to almost anything at the click of a button, through providers such as Spotify, Deezer, Amazon Music, and Apple etc.

The music I have been listening to has come through selected BBC Radio 6, Radio 3, and even occasional Radio 2 programmes. Also through social-media’ prompts to Youtube and the like – for example, via Twitter I have found delights hidden on BBC S4C, seriously really good simple honest TV, hidden from mainstream.  The BBC has a feature called My Music where if you hear something while listening you can simply add it to your list of interesting pieces. You can then simply ‘click’ and export your list of ‘likes’ to a service such as Spotify. Over the last year, I’ve unintentionally accumulated a few dozen ‘liked’ tracks on my BBC My Music.

I thought I’d share this odd selection of stuff that has been ‘liked’ this year. Many of these tunes have made me stop, pause, cease, yield, and think again.
I just loved hearing Rebroff’s playfulness 2’30” into his unique rendition of Kalinka. I first heard this at 7.30am one morning on my bike, thanks to @PetrocTrelawny and team.
Ešenvalds’ Stars is just beautifully rendered by Voces8 again discovery thanks to Radio 3.
Lewis & Leigh have a unique sound that I have not been able to forget after discovering them live in Nottingham last year.
Some tracks are odd, some carry baggage, some just resonate like a shining bell in a darkening disquiet.

I look forward to discovering more next year! or indeed tomorrow!

Stuff from 2017 …

• Charles Aznavour – Les deux guitares
• Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky – Valse-scherzo, Op. 34
• Ivan Rebroff – Kalinka, Kalinka
• Ēriks Ešenvalds & Voces8 – Stars
• Grace Williams – Sea Sketches: V. Calm Sea in Summer
• The Spooky Men’s Chorale – Crossing the Bar
• Jimmy Cliff – Many Rivers To Cross
• The Music Box – The Kingfisher – Remix
• Christy Moore – Arthur’s Day
• Bombay Bicycle Club – Luna
• Lewis & Leigh – There Is a Light