Wednesday, December 15, 10:05 am
I had another peaceful, perfect moment this morning. Holding my coffee under my nose, looking out the back window at my snow covered yard, beautiful music on the stereo, the remains of an egg omelet that I had made myself on the table and everything was in place. The universe had become balanced and I felt contentment at a great level. It is hard to go to a place like that because they are so fragile. Once you step out of the moment, they are gone, sending you back to an inferior place.
I think about these those beautiful moments of contentment and tried to make a list of what was so satisfying to me; there is the coffee, being in my own house, and the music.
Music is one of the reasons I enjoy being home alone. I set my iPod on shuffle and crank op the stereo. Glorious, sensual music pours out of the speakers in a warm, glowing stream filling the air from the floor to the ceiling, with tiny, sparkling bits of sound.
The first time that happened was 1983, when I heard Siouxsie and the Banshees' first album, The Scream (1978). "Pure," the opening track is a spooky, instrumental. The weeping guitars, baying moans and thunderous, rhythm less percussion caught my attention like nothing I had heard before. Even now, nearly 30 years after I first heard it, it still makes me grin.
In my head, I saw the musicians recording the song in a dimly lit studio, wearing dark clothes, their movements slow and spare, music spilling out into the darkened corners. "Jigsaw Feeling," the next track continued in the same way; but this time, the mood was one of barely contained energy; the slashing, squealing guitar mimicked the sound of a psychic jigsaw, cutting someone's personality to pieces; "One day I'm feeling total, the next I'm split in two." A perfect reflection of the fragmentation I was feeling as a freshman in college. By the time the final chord of the final song played, the universe had gone dark.
I had never heard anything like it before, because, you know, there was very little punk rock in small, mid-western towns like Norwalk, Ohio thirty years ago.
People who know me know I like to inflict my music choices on others-if you haven't received a mix CD from me, let me know and I will make you one today. I have no idea what will be on it or why, other than it sounded good to me. It will be a learning experience for me.
Feeling the music in this new way gave me a new appreciation for the sounds I was hearing. So dear Siouxsie, thank you for the music because it made my life so much richer.
Friday, December 17th, 2010 10:08 AM