Music - Part 1

If music be the food of love, PLAY ON!

I’ve thought about blogging about music, and what it means to me, for quite a while. I could probably go on forever. I may well do.

Where shall I start? At the beginning? Maybe just a ramble, or three.

First and foremost, it IS a huge love. When you can ‘feel’ music rather than just listen, then you have found something very special. It is a love, a passion, good, bad, anger, sorrow, sex. It’s all of these things and more. It’s important not to dismiss anything. I once heard some singer or a critic in the 80’s say that if someone had gone to the trouble to record something, the least we can do is give it at least one listen. I always remember that, and, unless it’s particularly awful, I stand by it. I’ve heard some real dross of late, but, I’ve given it the honour of my aural attention – although maybe never to listen to it again!

The thing is, if it moves you, you like it. If you like it enough, it doesn’t matter what it is or who sings it. I used to present a show on community radio and, one night played Nine Inch Nails followed by Nat ‘King’ Cole. I love both, so why shouldn’t I play them? An old acquaintance of mine would refuse to listen to any electronic bands because he insisted they had no musical merit. The fool.

I like some pretty obscure stuff I have to admit, but, there is far more obscure stuff somewhere. I also love a ‘classic pop song’ – file under Abba, or 80’s New Romantic, or, well, anything, does it really matter as long as you like it?

I could list my favourite artistes, but, I’d probably miss some out. I used to think I knew a lot about music, then I met my wife and it all started again. We both love finding new stuff, the internet is a blessing to uncovering gems, and, we never dismiss anything. Well, almost anything!

So, what shall I do? Featured artistes, favourite albums, today’s choice? Tell you what, like discovering music, I won’t have any agenda. I’ll write what I write when I write.

From Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, 1602:

DUKE ORSINO:
If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.