As our family approaches 4 weeks staying at home, we are amusing ourselves in different rooms around the house.
I got first dibs on the dining room with its view of Divis mountain and patio door. Here I sit with my notebook listening to music as I tap away inexpertly producing drivel.
As a slow catcher upper, I often wonder why I didn’t do things sooner. Creating my own playlist on the amazon music app is one example. Now I can listen to Jacques Brel, Dusty Springfield, Dave Brubeck, Fabrizio de Andre and others, all without DJ or ads.
BBC Radio 3 now has music to sleep by. The first time, I tuned in by accident and was puzzled by the orchestra repeating slow passages with soporific effect.
Some may claim that music reaches the parts that other arts just can’t. I acknowledge the unique ability of music to evoke emotional responses quickly, but do not raise music to a superior position for all that. Fiction can take me away from real life, and yet have me empathising with characters and visualising scenes that I never can when I’m listening to music. A painting can fill me with joy, draw me in, and stimulate my brain in a different way. But you have to put the work in to get the full benefit of any art form.
“Ceci n’est pas une pipe” as Magritte so acccurately put it.
odespinner 