I dedicate this little essay to all these anonymous musicians who brighten ordinary people’s lives, day after day.
In the beginning there was the note. From the note originated the sound. Man learned how to use his body and how to create instrumentals, digging deep into Mother Nature’s prevalent models, constantly revising and prefectionnating his techniques. The trees were some of his tools and the birds some model of organized orchestra.
I wonder if you could stand still for a minute and imagine a world without any kind of music? I couldn’t, because such a silence is rather terrifying to listen to. Taking a solitary walk in a “silent” forest during a Summer afternoon is nevertheless a symphony of birds and bees and other insects and animals alltogether.
Music can take so many forms. We are more sensitive to styles and musical forms that we particularly like. I myself love the kind of music that talks to my soul. It doesn’t always have to come from professionals, it could emerge from anonymous underground Parisian Metro or London Tube players, who are playing all the ways, whether people are taking attention or not.
I like it when an artist manages to make me understand the depth of his music. I like it when I suddenly find myself vanishing into the music and becoming the music itself: my sould becomes attentive, while my head shakes in accordance with the rhythm.
The music and I are then one.
Copyright by Isabelle Esling
All Rights Reserved