I’ve learned to love music. Not politics. Maybe football. Not shouting. Perhaps drinking. And understanding that sometimes these things (but always music) mean not sleeping.
Music is the best. I love it now.
Now I understand. I mean love, like it flows through my veins, it touches every extremity, it makes me move move move. My tail wags, my ears move, my whole body moves with it. Originally I used to think the only singing was done in a 1,000 year old gravel voice. You know what I mean? Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Neil Young, Tom Waits…these sort of chaps.
Girls were quite similar…a lot of pain… Lucinda Williams, Marianne Faithfull, Cyndi Lauper, Emmylou Harris, Allison Moorer.
Then, one glorious beautiful morning I understood, it came to me, I “got” it – the Master had understood since 1963 or earlier I believe – I understood music wasn’t about a silky, smooth voice. IT WAS ABOUT THE SOUL!
Deep inside me…deep deep deep. That part of the soul that has no words to explain it. I imagine it’s a bit like love. I mean, for god’s sake, how is that explained???? The music climbs inside you, it wriggles, it squirms, it hits you, it challenges, it threatens, and then…..boom,it makes you weep. If its THAT good, IT always ALWAYS makes you weep.
You can weep with happiness, you can weep with sadness, you can weep with the beauty of the words, at the beauty of the arrangement. but you weep. The rain trickles down your face, gently but inevitably.
The boss came back recently from seeing his hero. Bob Dylan. My god, I’ve heard him so so so many times. But you know when he told me this, I got up and licked his nose.
He said two songs made him cry during the one night. He said the singing came from beyond this world, as though Dylan wasn’t actually there but was above it all and singing privately just to him, the music from the band was played as though by angels, in a way that transcended the notes, and he felt the presence of the past upon his shoulders. The songs were “Tangled Up in Blue” and “Autumn Leaves”.
Enjoy the music.
This may help you understand if I’ve confused you!
To Remain Still Would Be a Lie, and Bob Dylan on Stage Does Not Lie
Woof! Woof!
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