Catching Music

A frustration with writing about music is that it is constantly going to slip through your fingers.  It’s a bit like explaining smell or taste; you’re trying to capture the moment, explain the unexplainable, and never quite reaching the mark with words alone.

I’ve often thought about how trying to describe the brief, magical bits of your childhood fail in a similar way.  How do you catch a feeling, describe a sensation, explain an emotional attachment?  How do you explain the rush of warmth and mystery at hearing a new piece of music or sampling a new, delicious taste?  How do you describe that strange parallel state that isn’t physical and yet has such tremendous mystical power?  We may have felt a similar sense of curiosity and enigma when looking in the mirror.  Where is that other world staring back?  What is it that’s just around the corner, just out of view?  How is it that it looks so enticing, even though we know perfectly well what is in that room, indeed what is beyond that room?  Our brain and our logic tell us exactly what it is - a mirror image of where we are, and yet it feels different.  With music, we can describe the nuts and bolts of it; the structure and instrumentation, yet what it produces is so much more than that - a result that is far greater than the sum of its parts.  Weird isn’t it?  It represents and connects us with an existence slightly away from our own, but is nevertheless almost touching us….   It may be that this is what spiritual leaders are describing when talking about prayer and meditation; an other-worldliness which is still very human, yet difficult to grasp, retain and explain.

Sometimes, when I think about conjuring up these fleeting childhood and musical memories - which I hope have touched all of us - the only way to capture them in words is through cultural reference and metaphor, in the hope that others will get it.  If for example one described an enveloping Trumpton-like world, or the overwhelming stimulation to the senses on hearing the first live orchestra, or paddling with warm sand and bare feet on a perfect summer day, or the unexpected thrill of a beautiful sunset, hopefully someone will recognise at least one of those references.

It is through critical listening of music that those references float through the imagination and conjure up the same feelings.  Attending an awards ceremony in a couple of weeks, I will be pondering these exact thoughts.  Musicians will be performing, and there will be writers, critics and agents present to give them an annual pat on the back. There’s nothing wrong with that; musicians are not given nearly enough praise and reward for devoting themselves to their craft, and have been literally demoted in recent years - financially and status-wise.  If they are solidly mediocre, their craft is treated as little more than a hobby, for which they should be paying for the privilege to exercise.  If they are superb however, they are labelled as ‘lucky’ because they’re ‘talented.’  We know of course that this is a huge misrepresentation; whilst aptitude matters, conscientious, repetitive work matters so much more.  Instrumentalists and singers have had to devote themselves in a way that very few understand or appreciate.  There is first the realisation, the ‘zapping’ if you like that this is how they want to dedicate their lives.  Then there are the various academic and practical hoops to jump through, followed by a brutal realisation (possibly at higher education level) that this choice of career is really hard.  What’s more, even if they reach a point where they start to feel they are touching that spiritual world (it may forever elude them; it’s a permanent and never-ending journey) there is then the even stronger realisation that the inconvenience of earning a living needs to be navigated.  It’s enough to put anyone off…. And yet, something does happen when those rare, dedicated musicians have completed their forty thousand hours (yes, really) of practice.  They reach a level of concentration, of completeness that elevates them and elevates us, the listeners.  Hopelessly inadequate though it is, I have tried to describe and explain this - but really the only way to touch that world is to encourage all of us to fully listen, absorb deeply and to appreciate musicians and their path to integrity.  To recognise the high level of craft, dedication and sincerity which brings something good into our lives.  To realise that this doesn’t arrive by accident; it has to be consciously recognised and will only continue if we direct resources to this essential part of human expression.  And to persuade others that this great blessed force will not survive without donating lots of money to live music and music education.  Please.

Uplifting music of the day:  ‘If You Love Somebody Set Them Free’ - Sting and his awesome band from the 1985 Album ‘The Dream of the Blue Turtles.’  I love Sting.  Have I said that before?  I think I might have done.  Firstly, he has great taste and picks literally the best musicians to play and collaborate with.  Secondly, he has fabulous, sophisticated yet catchy compositions.  Thirdly, what a voice…

Contemplative music of the day:  ‘Images pour piano, no. 1 - Reflets dans l’eau - Debussy.  Although I’ve had this particular album in my collection (‘A Portrait of Kathryn Stott’) for donkey’s years, I keep being reminded of it by Radio 3 who often play it.  With damn good reason - it’s gorgeous.

Book: ‘Gone with the Windsors’ by Laurie Graham.  If you haven’t yet read a book by this wonderful, funny writer I urge you to do so.  I suppose you could loosely call her a historical novelist, but her books are so sharp and witty that they don’t feel learned at all - just a joyous ride.