Musical Summa
These past few difficult months spanning the second half of 2006, I have written some fifty quick notes pointing to music that has kept me aloft through the haze of days and nights.
In the light of Sepia Mutiny's The 2006 Macca Music Poll (go there, and check out some new music), I was reviewing these notes of mine, and following the links[1] to music to listen to some of it again. Just like the emotional withdrawals into the self that have happened, in scanning these posts, I have noticed that my musical tastes have swung, somewhat, back towards what was familar (Hindi film music and Indian classical music, for example), and somewhat away from novel sonic explorations, which had happened with great frequency in the inital years after my arrival in America; even though I did probe deeper into Persian classical music, Argentine tango, and Brazilian pop music.
Another interesting thing to note is deepening of my interest in Western classical music (I saw and heard some beautiful classical music performed in the last year), firmly anchored in my mental space by the godhead of Bach. So it is on that classical note, I would like to end this year's music posts, by turning to one of the many beautiful and poetic chants written out by the genius Hildegard of Bingen, which in English goes:
"O leafy branch, standing in your nobility as the dawn breaks forth: now rejoice and be glad and deign to set us frail ones free from evil habits and stretch forth your hand and lift us up."
[1] Mostly on YouTube; after Napster-era, I think YouTube has pretty much become the defacto resource I turn to discover and listen to new music
Music Posts
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Reading of a Horoscope
"Your mind is still in a haze,
but your heart is starting
to find some clarity", pronounces
today’s psychic forecast.
Sunlight dazzles on the floor, on the slender spines of unread books of poems heaped there, as the crouched mind watches for fresh clearances in the heart in which the word can be seeded again, in which the forge can be fired again, and the thawed hands can fashion again a table, a plate, a bottle, a loaf of bread, a place of rest in these years of un-rest.
My Poems
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