Pharoah Sanders…keep on going…RIP

“A lot of time I don’t know what I want to play. So I just start playing, and try to make it right, and make it join to some other kind of feeling in the music. Like, I play one note, maybe that one note might mean love. And then another note might mean something else. Keep on going like that until it develops into—maybe something beautiful.”

—  Pharoah Sanders, “If You’re in the Song, Keep on Playing”: An Interview With Pharoah Sanders by Nathaniel Friedman. (The New Yorker, January 12, 2020). (via Alive on All Channels)

Pharoah Sanders, Whose Saxophone Was a Force of Nature, Dies at 81 (NY Times, Sept 24, 2022).

Don’t Miss Pharoah Sanders on Youtube here: Harvest Time.

 

Sweet Dreams (40 Years Ago!)

In 1981, Eurythmics released a debut album, “In the Garden,” that went nowhere, but its follow-up in 1983, “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This),” unlocked America for them. The video for the title track was a constant presence during MTV’s early years. Stewart and Lennox were suddenly everywhere, glaring mysteriously from magazine covers, staring from videos in arch amusement….The success of “Sweet Dreams,” the fourth in a line of underperforming singles from their sophomore album, surprised everyone, especially them. “Obviously ‘Sweet Dreams’ is just a huge life-changer,” Lennox says…”it’s just played endlessly. ‘Sweet Dreams’ isn’t even a conventional song … it’s like a mantra. It just repeats and repeats. It doesn’t have that structure. But there’s something in the song that people clearly identify with, whatever they’re doing, you know, they’re having a celebration or somebody scored a goal or it’s a birthday.”

—  Allison Stewart, Annie Lennox beguiled us in the MTV age. Now she calms us down online. Nearly 40 years after Eurythmics hit it big with ‘Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This),’ the singer keeps her chin up in a world of anxieties (The Washington Post, June 30, 2022)

And if the wind is right…

Well, it’s not far down to paradise
At least it’s not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find tranquility
Oh, the canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see, believe me…

Well, it’s not far back to sanity
At least it’s not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find serenity
Oh, the canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see, really, believe me

Sailing
Takes me away to where I’ve always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free

— Christopher Cross, from “Sailing” (1980)


Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 4:52 am, June 5, 2022. 53° F. Calf Pasture Beach, Norwalk, CT. More photos from this morning here @ Calf Pasture Beach and here @ Cove Island Park

I felt haunted by a monumental sense of failure, of aborted struggle and lost time.

I set out to write an exploration of music and its relation to the science of time. Music itself embodies time, shaping our sense of its passage through patterns of rhythm and harmony, melody and form. We feel that embodiment whenever we witness an orchestra’s collective sway and sigh to the movement of a baton, or measure a long car ride by the playlist of songs we’ve run through; every time we feel moved by music to dance; when we find, as we begin dancing, that we know intuitively how to take the rhythm into our bodies, that we are somehow sure of when and how the next beat will fall. Surely, I thought, there must be a scientific reason behind that innately human sense of embodied time, a way of grounding our musical intuition in physics and biology, if not completely quantifying it. But I also wanted to write about music because it has shaped the time of my own life more than almost anything else. I have played the violin for nearly twenty years, practicing five or six hours a day for most of them, because all I wanted was to become a soloist. When I realized in my early twenties that this never would be—and never had been—a possibility for me, I began to question why I had wasted so much time on music at all. I stopped playing for a while, and though I eventually picked it up again I no longer felt the same fire or ambition. Instead I felt haunted by a monumental sense of failure, of aborted struggle and lost time. Not only had the effort and sacrifice of the past all been for naught, but the future I had planned from that past seemed obliterated, too.

Natalie Hodges, from Prelude in “Uncommon Measure. A Journey Through Music, Performance, and the Science of Time” (Bellevue Literary Press, March 22, 2022)


This, is failure?


NY Times Book Review: The Violinist Natalie Hodges Writes About Her Devotion to Music & 12 Books We Recommend This Week (April 7, 2022)

You ask me am I crazy for playing the cello in a war zone

One night, I dreamed that I was meeting my friend, a poet named Mariana, in Sarajevo, the city of love. I woke up confused. Sarajevo, a symbol of love? Wasn’t Sarajevo the site of one of the bloodiest civil wars of the late twentieth century? Then I remembered. Vedran Smailović. The cellist of Sarajevo…

You ask me am I crazy for playing the cello in a war zone, he says. Why don’t you ask THEM if they’re crazy for shelling Sarajevo?

His gesture reverberates throughout the city, over the airwaves. Soon, it’ll find expression in a novel, a film. But before that, during the darkest days of the siege, Smailović will inspire other musicians to take to the streets with their own instruments. They don’t play martial music, to rouse the troops against the snipers, or pop tunes, to lift the people’s spirits. They play the Albinoni. The destroyers attack with guns and bombs, and the musicians respond with the most bittersweet music they know.

We’re not combatants, call the violinists; we’re not victims, either, add the violas. We’re just humans, sing the cellos, just humans: flawed and beautiful and aching for love.

Susan Cain, “Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole” (Crown, April 5, 2022)


Image: Manny Becerra via Unsplash