Shift

A few months ago I came across a passage from a book written by a Brazilian writer talking about ignorance in a very fresh way.  

Unfortunately, the title of said book wasn't given by the person who recited it (an actor), and even though I looked for it it was nowhere online. 

So... I'll post my next favourite from her.  I like the idea contained in the quotation I couldn't find, which turns ignorance on its head, seeing the potential in it. (From memory, it is something like "knowledge is always limited; not knowing is limitless."  

How many of us can honestly claim to not have wished for the opportunity to read a book, listen to a piece of music, or see a film or painting, all over again, for the first time?  Only ignorance makes the first time possible. 

“I do not know much. But there are certain advantages in not knowing. Like virgin territory, the mind is free of preconceptions. Everything I do not know forms the greater part of me: This is my largesse. And with this I understand everything. The things I do not know constitute my truth.” 

Clarice Lispector

There is a certain, specific kind of liberation in the act of shifting one's perception or body in order to look at the same thing and see something new.

The idea that prejudice comes from ignorance makes the ears of reason perk up in alert suspicion.  I think this idea is incomplete. It's maimed or badly articulated.  To me, prejudice comes not from ignorance, but from incomplete knowledge of a certain thing; it comes from failure to dig deep enough, or failure to understand. Not understanding and not knowing are two different concepts to me.  There are many things one can know about or of, and yet not understand, not grasp the core of what makes the thing itself.

Pairs in Paris

Yknow what I love?  When I'm looking intently at a painting and all of a sudden a sound comes to me. A sound I've heard before and which became familiar over a period of time... and which was waiting for its visual pair.   Or, alternatively, when I'm listening to a piece of music, and an image comes to me. Usually it is an image which comes out of my imagination -- of course prompted by the sounds... that exquisite combination of notes, pitches and rhythm, with more intensity here, less there, silences in all the right places, making one wait just enough, the better to understand what comes next.

This pair came naturally, just now.

I like it.  

The music came first, and now, to my mind, it seems to have been waiting for its visual peer; to me, this:

Jean-Marc Nattier, Thalia, Muse of Comedy, 1739

We have seen that music occupies the dimension of time, one that is universally experienced by the inner consciousness.  Time has only one dimension; it is best thought of in terms of a flowing point.  Strictly speaking, variety is never experienced at one moment in time; unity must be imposed on it if it is to be experienced in this way.  Basically then, music is pure succession, in which variety is experienced successively, rather than simultaneously.  As such it is an image of our restless, mutable, everchanging life.  Yet nothing that is apparently simple in nature is in fact so; all reality is the product of a combination of antinomies.  Part of our being derives from the unity that comprises two, three, or a multiplicity of diverse elements.  The harmony made up of simultaneously sounding notes that are concordant with each other, and which, though diverse, form a unity, may well, in fact, represent in audible terms the internal structure of life.  This harmony is the truly mystical element in music, one which does not demand some powerful reaction from progression in time, but which strives for the infinite in the indivisible instant.  So we see in fact that the modern development of harmony originated in Christian worship at a time when men had lost that sense of free movement in the phenomenal world, and that energetic rhythm of the ancients, at a time when the psyche was looking inwards in its search for a higher life.  The solemn church anthem expresses this striving for spiritual union in the dimension of the suprasensual.  Music can express every degree of worldliness, every degree of spirituality (...)

August Wilhem Schlegel, emphasis mine

To hell with reality! I want to die in music, not in reason or in prose. People don't deserve the restraint we show by not going into delirium in front of them. To hell with them!

Louis-Ferdinand Celine

THE TROPICAL ISLE

Gibreel Farishta floating on his cloud formed the opinion that the moral fuzziness of the English was meteorologically induced. 'When the day is not warmer than the night,' he reasoned, 'when the light is not brighter than the dark, when the land is not drier than the sea, then clearly a people will lose the power to make distinctions, and commence to see everything -from political parties to sexual partners to religious beliefs - as much-the-same, nothing-to-chose, give-or-take. What folly! For truth is extreme, it is so and not thus, it is him and not her; a partisan matter, not a spectator sport. It is, in brief, heated. City,' he cried, and his voice rolled over the metropolis like thunder, 'I am going to tropicalize you.'

Gibreel enumerated the benefits of the proposed metamorphosis of London into a tropical city: increased moral definition, institution of a national siesta, development of vivid and expansive patterns of behaviour among the populace, higher-quality popular music, new birds in the trees (macaws, peacocks, cockatoos), new trees under the birds (coco-palms, tamarind, banyans with hanging beards). Improved street-life, outrageously coloured flowers (magenta, vermilion, neon-green), spider-monkeys in the oaks. A new mass market for domestic air-conditioning units, ceiling fans, anti-mosquito coils and sprays. A coir and copra industry. Increased appeal of London as a centre for conferences, etc.; better cricketers; higher emphasis on ball-control among professional footballers, the traditional and soulless English commitment to 'high workrate' having been rendered obsolete by the heat. Religious fervour, political ferment, renewal of interest in the intelligentsia. No more British reserve; hot-water bottles to be banished forever, replaced in the foetid nights by the making of slow and odorous love. Emergence of new social values: friends to commence dropping in on one another without making appointments, closure of old folks' homes, emphasis on the extended family. Spicier food; the use of water as well as paper in English toilets; the joy of running fully dressed through the first rains of the monsoon.

Disadvantages: cholera, typhoid, legionnaires' disease, cockroaches, dust, noise, a culture of excess.

Standing upon the horizon, spreading his arms to fill the sky, Gibreel cried: 'Let it be.'

-- From ''The Satanic Verses'' by Salman Rushdie. Copyright (c) 1989 by Salman Rushdie. Used by arrangement with Viking Penguin Inc.

Stefano Maderno, St. Cecilia, 1599

W. H. Auden

Hymn to Saint Cecilia

(Patron Saint of Musicians)

In a garden shady this holy lady 

With reverent cadence and subtle psalm, 

Like a black swan as death came on 

Poured forth her song in perfect calm: 

And by ocean's margin this innocent virgin 

Constructed an organ to enlarge her prayer, 

And notes tremendous from her great engine 

Thundered out on the Roman air. 

Blonde Aphrodite rose up excited, 

Moved to delight by the melody, 

White as an orchid she rode quite naked 

In an oyster shell on top of the sea; 

At sounds so entrancing the angels dancing 

Came out of their trance into time again, 

And around the wicked in Hell's abysses 

The huge flame flickered and eased their pain. 

Blessed Cecilia, appear in visions 

To all musicians, appear and inspire: 

Translated Daughter, come down and startle 

Composing mortals with immortal fire.

Very well, it is Saint Cecilia's Day in the Catholic world, patroness of musicians.

I only just learned that Danielle Miterrand died today.  All of a sudden, this poem, which I had picked simply because it is musicians' day, takes on a new meaning, as well as the one intended.

Oh it is sad when we, who are still alive, who still have to deal with the sometimes impossibly and unnecessarily, at times, heavy atmosphere which exists in the world, and we have to do it without the presence of someone like Danielle, to make it lighter, better, more just, brighter; she was tough but not without tenderness.  We are poorer without her.  But what she embodied and inspired will not disappear with her body; W. H. Auden's poem, to me, describes not only the strength which poured out of Cecilia, but also of Danielle. And so many others, whose names we'll never learn, whose music we'll never hear.

Dos and Don'ts

Sonntag Along

Which shines the brightest today for you? 
For now, I'm just avoiding looking out the window at yet more rain...

José Feliciano

so far, I haven't heard a single version of this song which I disliked, tho it can get old, to my surprise!

George Harrison

...unlike this one; to me this is the best version, the only one I ever want to hear, and I never tire of it.

Simply Red

Fun, relaxing.

Ray Charles

I rillly dig, tho I'd have liked it better if it were a little shorter. But don't tell Ray, I'm sure he'd be devastated if he learned my opinion hehehe

Soundgarden

Was fresh when it came out, still okay now, but by no means exceptional (and also at least a minute too long - and do we really need "Won't you come" 2564 times on screen?) 


Shaun Escoffery



Good for dancing and mustering the strength necessary to go outside and walk when it's cold. Naff vid alert.

A Few of My Fav Formulæ

Saturn + Sun

Tho according to me something's missing in the first one at the leftop... 

Music = Everything + Kite

... to be cont'd

Morning Glory

Ipomoea quamoclit

On the relationship between music and violence

For the past few days I've been thinking about a possible link between music and violence.  Observing people I know and remembering people I knew and their idiosyncrasies, mannerisms, personalities, etc, I've noticed something that interests me very much.  I hope I don't disappoint anyone who might read this: this isn't about any correlations between rap&violence, punk&violence, sexism, gansta rap, etc etc. None of that in this post, so if you were hoping for it, you might as well stop reading now.

Starting from a cursory reflection about my own likes and dislikes, I'm tempted to make a few claims:

• Music cuts through all the "white noise" which exists in our daily lives;
• Musical affinity makes other types of understanding easier and quicker, like between two people who speak a foreign language that isn't their first one (i.e. a Spanish speaker and an Arabic speaker meet and must find a 3rd language in common if neither speaks the other's language);
• People with acute sensibility to music have less patience for the mundane and those who take pleasure in mundane activities. If my opinion on this is at all well-founded, this is the most important part of the argument, because it informs one's reactions to the world;
• Once music is on (and here the necessary presupposition is music which pleases the individual) one has no choice but to experience whatever feeling that piece of music will bring the listener.

I think this is what lies behind that hitherto incomprehesible (to me) practice authoritarian/totalitarian regimes had/have (esp USSR) of sending composers and musicians to camps or banning pieces of music without lyrics (!)---

These censors realized how music cuts through all the white noise, so to speak, how certain pieces have the power to awaken in some a most powerful, usually subconscious understanding of how so much that goes on around us is utterly meaningless.

Bureaucracy is the enemy of sublimation and beauty;  music as art, therefore, can act as a metaphysical experience, which removes us from our immediate physical "reality" -- and here I put reality in inverted commas precisely to highlight how it isn't an absolute but a temporary, physical reality, and not the essential reality of one's own intimate thoughts, feelings, and experiences, or even the reality of one's imagination and hopes for the future, which are necessarily of a better quality than one's present.  The clear inference is the present isn't good enough.

Claims about how "a certain type of music" alienates and "distracts" from The (insert your favorite one here) Struggle, then, begin to make sense to me, when viewed through this prism.

The violence with which the musical experience invades our being, that is, leaving absolutely no choice to the listener as to whether s/he wants to feel it or not, is seldom matched by other experiences, because it isn't painful as such.   It can be the vehicle or agent which brings other painful experiences to the foreground of one's immediate present, but it is done with sublimated violence; indeed, pleasurable violence.  Its effects are the opposite of those achieved with vulgar violence in that the "victim" is happier, more complete, more himself after having suffered music's brutality.

This sublimation is precisely what's lacking in the mundane, where objects/experiences are more similar to a billboard when compared to music, that's to say, in spite of their tangible aspect, they lack the depth and the power to transmit the v special feeling the idea of infinity gives us.  One looks at a billboard and knows, even if it is an expertly crafted one like trompe l'oeil can be, that there is nothing behind it, no depth, no 3rd dimension, much less a 4th one to be imagined or momentarily inhabited.  

So the very fact music is intangible makes it MORE three- or four-dimensional than any physical manifestation of the imagination and any interpretation of the real.  I'm willing to claim this quality is present in music and religious experiences, nowhere else.  Nothing else can produce this ambiguity between suffering and ecstasy, not even sex-- it lacks the sublime quality music and religion share.

Hence: music & religion are totalitarians' favorite bêtes noires.

Hilariously, I understand now how music can be more threatening to any power structure than a novel, than words.  Naturally I'm talking about music here, not lyrics; indeed, I am only talking about music without lyrics.

The violence contained in how music injects itself into a person is infinitely higher and more powerful than any other type of violence, because there is no resistance possible.  External, physical violence is the weapon of the impotent.

Amizade

I rillly rilly wish I could go see my friend play...

Hip, no tick

Fri

ahhhh

Dei

For: Dancing, Listening, Analyzing, Singing Along, or just...Chilling.

DominTanGo

When a style or genre of music is modified or "modernized", artists run a v big risk. Of it being total bollox. I think in the case of the track below it worked well. But Tango does have this quality, doesn't it? It can be poked & prodded and not perish.

Traditionalists will disagree, I'm sure, but then I find comfort in the way they treated Piazzolla and his subsequent influence. VictoriAstor.

Some genres were almost made to be in a state of perennial metamorphosis, like the continent it comes from, in this case.

For comparison's sake, here's a traditional track:

And a Nuevo Tango one -- Astor:

My fav is Piazzolla.

Mas Que Nada

Since the Kiss Paintings entry, I've been thinking about doing the same thing but with music. The choice was either between different versions of the same song or different songs by the same artist. I chose the first option since I find it easier to pick one that way.

I picked 'Mas Que Nada' because I rilly like it (obviously) but also because it's well-known now. So...here it is.

Which is your fav version?

Jorge Ben Jor Original Version

Sergio Mendes Brazil '66 Version

Pushkin Quintett Version

Tamba Trio

Sergio Mendes & Black Eyed Peas Version

Vila Isabel sidewalk, Rio de Janeiro

Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and whiskers!

I know... I've been neglecting the blog recently. It's with good cause, though. I won't get into it, but for those of you who have emailed about it, all is well with me, yes, but I just haven't had time! timetimetime!

But here's a song I've been listening to this week. From a long, long time ago.

********

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Language & Music

They’re sisters, aren’t they? They’re really close sisters who have a strong, intimate, bond. And yet.

And yet they’ve also got two distinct, mutually exclusive, essences. Radical? Yes, but true. Or at least that’s my theory!

The rules & regulations which structure language can be bent, modified, and/or eliminated; those which frame music are not subject to endless tinkering & prodding, they’re firm and fixed. Grammar, syntax, prosody… they’re susceptible to the changes which occur in society and in a given culture over a period of time; but music’s rules are perennial. Though they may vary from one civilization to another, the internal rules of a musical tradition remain the same over time.

Feel free to disagree, but consider this for a second first:

Language is a slave, Music is a slavemaster.

Language is flexible -- too flexible. It is both her charm and her deepest flaw. She bends according to who is using her at any given time and can be made to say anything. She can be beautiful or she can be beaten to a bruised and bloody pulp, be badly hurt and scarred, tortured, brutalized. She has no life of her own, but rather depends on the qualities of her “handler”.

Though remarkably faithful when understood well, treated with tenderness & loved fully, she will not hesitate to give herself entirely to another, more powerful or richer owner if he summons her, and allow him to take from her whatever he wants. She doesn’t know the concepts of eternity or free will, and can also succumb to the promises of false prophets and usurpers if they offer temporary and superficial pleasure. She can also give much pleasure, and not only the shallow kind, but long-lasting and genuine, though probably not infinite.

Language is bound to whoever owns her at the time; she’s gagged unless allowed to fully blossom. Her fate is sad; she will never stay with anyone forever… she’s unable to belong fully to any one person. Her nature doesn’t allow it, it would violate what makes her attractive to begin with, her charm; the intuitive knowledge one has that she’s hiding something all the time - she has many secrets. If she were able to belong to only one owner, she would fade and finally disappear in the air… like rainbows. Like rainbows she is intangible, and her temporary owner, if he is wise, knows he will not have her forever, knows he can manipulate and abuse her but that eventually she will flee, though he never knows when or for how long. This is why all potential and current owners want her, because even though she is a submissive and loving slave, they must contrive to give her some pleasure and show her some admiration and respect, make an effort, however hesitant, or else she gives only the bare minimum and does not hide her cold side.

Often, Language asks her older, wiser sister, Music, for advice. Sometimes her sister takes pity on her and helps her. She shines under the bright light which emanates from her sister, but nothing Music does can help Language for good because her nature is to obey and serve.

Music can’t grasp these precepts by which her sister lives. Music rules, never obeys. Many think they have an ascendancy over her, but they’re wrong. In these instances, they were simply fooled by the sweet prelude which may accompany Music’s full ecstasy, but it is in reality merely a collection of mermaids singing: for a moment, the sailor thinks he will be able to have a mermaid because she sings for him - such sublime, delicate notes! So full of promise! So dizzying! - and then he falls into the water and drowns. Disgracefully. Duped & humiliated. The mermaid is not real, but a mirage announcing the grotesque demise of fools with delusions of grandeur. This prelude Music allows some to see is not her actual climax.

Music, like Language, is not married to only one person, cannot be; but her nature allows her to be fully faithful to several of her slaves at the same time. She gives herself entirely to each of them in an egalitarian manner, provided her slaves do the same. This is not an ordinary exchange in which the slave is not needed: he is, because it is the only way in which Music can express herself and show her beauty, in a symbiotic way. But she’s demanding and doesn’t show her full beauty easily! One must work hard to please her sensibility.

She keeps few slaves, all things considered, the better to control their lives with her impossible charms and ability to satiate even the most gluttonous appetites. Nevertheless, no slave who seriously dedicates his life to Music can have the guarantee of eternal happiness, only of satisfaction - of the most significant order; curiously, though, the ones who do choose this path do so because they simply can do no other. Music then decides who among them is worthy of possessing a fraction of her attention. There is a fine-tuned balance in this exchange. Those whom she does not pick are given the mermaid (Music is generous!) as a proxy, and may even live long enough to realize this is an illusion…