AND WHAT WAS MUSIC ANYHOW but silences between notes, a backhand kind of measuring. Rhythmic counter to both presence and absence, both stillness and cacophony. The clown found playing music the ultimate sanity. He’d started playing with others for something to do at parties, so he’d drink and damage himself less, since the songs and tunes lent him a joyful feeling, no matter how sad what they said. While the song lasted time stood still. Once the players found the groove, playing it around felt like forever. Sad or happy, the tune conjured a presence he felt part of, that erased the desire to be anywhere else. And if at the end of the day he sat and played by himself, just let the fingers wander, find what was there to be played, soon he’d discover how the day’s work had gone, what it had left him with.
Posted on: Tue, 24 Jun 2014 14:15:50 +0000
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