Monday, June 1, 2009

"And they carry out a very formal and artistic exorcism..."

Maybe it's the constant arpeggios played in the background which remind me of pracicing piano when I was younger, but, for some reason, this song got me thinking about metronomes. Every musician uses some form of metronome at first, at least during their formative studies. But once they get it down, they just have this internal clock, ticking away, while they play, blindly if necessary, or as a group, with their internal clocks ticking away, clicking together, filling in everything around the abyss of the repetitions.

It is music in its purest form that exorcises. It is music that is formed from the most basic of repetitions, and it creates trance, it creates ecstacy, smiles, laughs and cries. It comforts death and the grievers at funerals. It is the centerpiece at ceremonies, the necessary background or foreground for so many rituals. It mimics every sound and rhythm and pattern in nature, and at the same time that sound and rhythm and pattern in nature is music itself. It follows oceans while oceans are following it. It breathes on its own and it breathes with us, together. It fills in the gaps.

I was thinking that I live in a country where, sadly, I lack the pleasure of being able to eavesdrop. I can't understand the great majority of conversations around me. Furthermore, I spend most of my time listening to music sung in a multitude of foreign languages, which I can't understand either. I wonder what has led me to fill my audible world with so much incomprehension.

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