Sunday 21 April 2013

An Evening with Friends


I am deaf.  I am not as deaf as the proverbial post, but deaf enough not to be able to hear birdsong; deaf enough not to be able to make sense of what is being shouted at me;  deaf enough not to be able to listen to television, cinema or music.  However, a year ago I acquired a pair of smart hearing aids from Specsavers of Bishops Stortford, UK, who also supply my specs.  It has to be said that total hearing has not been restored, but things are far better than they were.  Now being deaf is not all bad, certainly not.  I can, on occasion, remove these "aural apparati" and retreat into a muted, sublime world of my own.  Also, they are barely visible which saves me from being accosted by anyone who feels moved to say,  "Do you know your hearing aids are showing?" as if I had left home that day having forgotten to don my trousers.

Unless it is requested otherwise I would like, respectfully, to pick up on a comment from time to time as a way into, or as an inspiration for, a future post.  Now in one comment I have been warned not to do posh music, but I would find this restriction rather sad and inhibiting.  After all, music is an art form that is part of mankind's very soul.  Simply because posh music has been called "classical" does not fundamentally distinguish it from all other music forms.  Yet that particular word creates an artificial divide in the mind that is more apparent than real.  But such is the power of words.  Much of western, so-called "classical" music has its origins in folk music, popular music of the day.  And what of "classical jazz"?

I recall that when I studied music at school, as a teenager, a small group of us were asked to list some "classical" works to be compared with music of another ilk shall we say.  This other music was chosen by a group of boys (it was a boy's only establishment) who had no declared interest in "serious" (another divisive adjective) music.  The aim of the exercise was to compare our musical choices, discuss them, and reach some common appreciation of their value.  I have to say that we did very badly.  I learned two important lessons from that exercise.  First, we chose compositions that were poor examples of what we were trying to demonstrate.  As our music master repeatedly said, "You could have chosen......" this piece or that.  There had been a marked lack of discernment on our part.  As music students, we had chosen pieces that had been guided by our intellectual considerations.  We had made the fundamental error of assuming that music needed to be understood in order to be enjoyed.  Second, we had failed to appreciate that our opposing team were not going to come round to our way of thinking anyway.  There was an ego problem involved, and that problem existed on both sides.  Neither side would give way.  The debate was not about music, but about winning, a trait that has caused so much grief in human affairs.

There will always be people who do not like this kind of music, of course, and that's fine, just as there are people who passionately love "classical music" (strictly a term which applies to music written within a narrow time span by, for example but not exclusively, Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven.)  The reasons for liking or disliking any style of music are many and various, if they can ever be defined at all.  I am not trying to convert anyone, not trying to win anyone over.  I no longer choose to fight those battles.  Instead, I would like you to come along with me for a short while. Let me set the scene.




It is Saturday evening, and a lovely day is ending with a chilly sunset.  A light, delicious dinner has been consumed, and we are preparing to relax in front of the television.  As is usual, there is nothing being broadcast that is remotely of any interest, and so we opt to listen to some music, our CD player connected to the television speakers.  (We used to have powerful, independent speakers, but when they and my hearing  began to decline,  the speakers were disposed of.  I'm still here though.)  Now viewing television requires little effort in concentration, whereas listening to music requires constant effort.  First my hearing aids must be reprogrammed, a simple enough adjustment, then my stethoscope-like widget needs to be arranged on top of the hearing aids and then constantly adjusted for volume and position.

I am reclining on the larger sofa, a glass of wine to hand, whilst Lucy sits on the smaller sofa, knitting perhaps, with Molly either curled up on her lap, gently snoring, or periodically investigating the possibility of snuggling down beside me.  The curtains are drawn and the lights are dimmed. Ssssh!  The music is about to begin with Arias from Puccini's "Madame Butterfly", "Tosca", "Suor Angelica", "Turandot" and others.  Puccini speaks to the heart, not the mind, and the heart responds, falteringly at first then with ever-increasing surety.  As the music swells, its passion mingling with, and absorbing in joyous union, that which the soul offers in return, I become aware of something else;  a world beyond definition that demands something of me.  It demands an opening up, a releasing, recognition.

Silence, a shuddering, indrawn breath.  Self-conscousness.  But all is not yet finished.

"Tchaikovski's Violin Concerto" (in D major, op.35) a.k.a. the 'lonely man's concerto' will complete the evening's listening.  This piece has been chosen, in part because this is a much loved concerto with all Tchaikovski's passionate intensity, but also because the work is being performed by Nicola Benedetti.  Recently, I heard her stunning performance of the ever-popular "Bruch Violin Concert" on television as part of the BBC's Promenade Season of concerts.  She is well worth listening to.

Finally, and almost too soon, the performance is over.  There is a kind of joyful 'gathering up'.  One looks around to share a smile with rest of the audience.  Yes, they are there, in the mind and memory at least.

Let me get your hats and coats.  Now come on people, please don't tell me nobody was interested.

19 comments:

  1. interested enough to look forward to the next ...

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  2. You paint with words as masterfully as you do with colors. I am inspired to visit YouTube to find the music you've mentioned here.

    If I find them, I'll close my eyes while listening and try to imagine you, Lucy and Molly settling in for an evening of musical pleasure.

    Thanks, Tom.

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    1. Martha: Thank you for the compliment, and I wish you success in your search.

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  3. Thank you for this lovely evening, Tom. I almost overstayed my visit but, you handing out coats and hats was a clear message.
    I heard the word 'posh' a lot in Germany. Did not know that it exists in the English language. Upper class- aristocracy?

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    1. Ellena: It was a pleasure, and you couldn't have overstayed your visit. However, it was getting very cold and frosty and you all had to get home safely.

      Yes, that is the meaning of posh, but also smart and elegant. It can also be used (in a slightly derogatory manner)to imply a sense of an elite minority.

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  4. Maybe they meant to warn you off of Posh Spice music?

    I will listen to anything Cecilia Bartoli sings. Her voice is dark and mellow and rich, burnt butter & mizithra.

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    1. Of course! Why didn't I see the connection with Posh Spice? Love your description of the voice of Cecilia Bartoli.

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  5. It's lovely being in your company...and while i do appreciate an odd and limited assortment of posh music, you have definitely piqued my interest.

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    1. Zephyr: Thank you, I am honoured. To search and to find is a rewarding task. So glad I piqued your interest.

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  6. My recommendation was incomplete; if you prefer, you could say I lied. What I should have said was: Don't do music (posh or otherwise) as I did.

    I've been writing about music for sixty years, some of it for publication. As the decades have slipped by my dissatisfaction has grown. Since I have only the sketchiest knowledge of musical structure and relationships I have been reduced (like the majority) to write in a subjective way. But was this the correct word? I looked it up for the first time: "Characteric of or belonging to reality as perceived by the observer rather than as independent of the observer".

    My kind of truth, if you like. Or would you prefer the fifth meaning of subjective: "Lacking in reality or substance, illusory."

    What's all this got to do with the price of eggs? Simply this. Lacking an agreed and well-defined vocabulary for describing music I was compelled to fall back on metaphor, quite frequently literary metaphor. Yet metaphor sits uneasily with the word "reality", you might even say metaphor was a flight from reality.

    There had to be a better way and this was what I tried to do in Tone Deaf. I wanted to see if I could write verifiably about music. In a way that got closer to what I had heard without blurring things by analogy. This is in fact possible when writing about music itself (eg, the trumpets come in late in a movement and add an edge to the quiet tune on the strings) It's harder when writing about performance since this usually assumes much more experience of an individual piece than most of us have time to accumulate. Thus if we say say "the third movement was played too quickly" can we be sure that this would be generally agreed or are we comparing the speed with that of the first version of the work we ever heard (which, in my own case, frequently sticks in my memory for years and years).

    Does writing verifiably suggest I'm tearing the wings off the butterfly, reducing this most personal of the arts to dry as dust analysis? I would say that we must write as precisely as we can because, otherwise we run the risk of betraying the work and our experience of it.

    Not that it matters. There is a worthwhile speck of truth in this theory but it required more effort (and time) than I had available, given I had other fish to fry. Funnily enough it worked best when I applied it to pop music (about which I know nothing). Anyway after about 150 posts, and for other - quite venial - reaons I dropped it.

    I wanted to respond also about deafness which troubles me but not, thank God, relative to music. But writing the above brought about a Damascene memoment. You didn't embark on a blog to have me clog up its arteries (Metaphor! Yah, boo.) with long windy personal emboli. In future I'll limit my comments to one para, 150 words tops. In French perhaps.

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    1. Robbie: I found your comment of great interest, and one which regrettably demands more careful consideration than I am able to give at present. Music criticism is not a field I know much about. If I did I'm sure I would also experience your evident frustration. Orchestra management was a kinder discipline.

      Two specific points I would like to take up. I certainly did not think you had lied. In fact I am grateful that your original comment was incomplete, otherwise it may not have given me the lead-in for which I was searching.

      The other point I would like to make is, if you have a point to make and it takes more than 150 words, so be it. But do not write in French! I have no intention of spending the rest of my days walking round with a French/English dictionary under one arm, and a textbook on French syntax under the other.

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  7. Lovely writing, Tom, and I wholly responded to your thoughts and feelings about classical music which I love more than other forms. I felt like I was one of the friends having an evening in your home - thanks for having me!

    (Just want to mention that I'm having great diffciulty commenting, or actually having the comment 'published' - it just sits there doing nothing. I try several times until something tweaks. Same problem at Joe's blog. Hope this one finally comes through - here goes!)

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    1. Marja-leena: You were certainly one of the friends who shared an evening with us. It was a pleasure having you.

      Sorry you have been having difficulty getting your comment published. Rouchswalwe, similarly, is having difficulties. It is most frustrating.

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  8. Goodness, it's THE Tom! Welcome to blogland. I enjoyed your post a lot and felt I was with you in that room. It's most interesting getting your take on things, having "known" you for some years through Lucy's blog.

    Looking forward to reading more.

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    1. Isabelle: It was a very interesting get-together I thought. Thank you for coming. One of the things that struck me about that evening was how delicious a part imagination and fantasy had to play. And that is a whole, vast field of endeavour.

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  9. Just looking in to check if the commenting problems have been resolved. Keep up the good work Matey!

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    1. Looks OK, but we'll see about changing it to a pop-up window.

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    2. Lucy: Thanks tech support!

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