I can not sing. I can hum tunes that some people who are extremely kind tell me they recognise. I can whistle a few bars of a few songs and a very fake bird call - it is supposed to be a guinea fowl should you ever hear it. But I can not sing.
My mother could not sing. She claimed that she could play the piano and sometimes represented herself as a little gifted but we never had a piano at home so it was safe for her to brag about her talent. I suspect that she could play but perhaps not as well as she claimed. Which is okay. After all, as she so often said, if you do not sing your own praises no one else will. But she could not hold a note when it came to singing. My father could sing and on occasion I recall him singing well. My brother was once in a choir and I think my sister can sing well enough not to embarrass close family members. I can not.
Should I raise my voice cats start fights, dogs bark, babies cry and my loved ones cover their ears as they flee whilst claiming that they have never seen me before in their lives. I am the person in church whom others turn to find as they realise that there is some hideous beast amongst them who may require an exorcism. I am the one whom the singing teacher requests to mime. I am an excellent mime. To watch me, so my mirror has told me for some 40 years, is to assume that I am a skilled singer. Should you come closer when a few notes escape my lips I think you would shudder before finding some activity out of hearing range.
I envy those who can sing. It must be wonderful to be able to belt out a carol at Christmas and not scare small children. Singing along with a song in the car must be a pleasure when the sound of your own voice does not make you want to slap yourself. We live in a world where music is omnipresent. There are companies that produce cds that are suitable for any market. Middle aged shoppers, teenagers, 80+, 8 - there are tunes that are adapted to make us relax, drink more wine, eat more, buy more and have an effect on us even when we don't realise that there is music. Which is, in my opinion, a pity.
Music is special. I can not play an instrument, read a note, hold a tune but I appreciate all those skilled people who can and do. When I hear Mozart's Oboe Concerto in C, or Led Zeppelin or Genesis or King's College Choir, among so many others, I want to listen. The structure of the music brings emotions to the forefront of my thoughts. Who can not listen to the qin being played, or David Bowie, or the guitar playing of Young without a reaction of some sort?
Life has a sound track. Early in the morning it is the birds singing as they begin their day, then it is the alarm clock, followed by the sound of the shower and then the kettle with a beep from the microwave. Then there is the welcoming woof from Bala. The whoosh of a car passing as we take a constitutional stroll. A voice reading the news after the short identifying tune for the BBC World News. If I am very fortunate, and most days I am, I can play a few CDs that make me happy, thoughtful, a little teary on occasion. On the radio - which is one electronic medium that I still appreciate - a song long forgotten is played. I hear it and recall my friend Cindy and I getting ready to go out when we were 17. A picture forms of heated curlers, eyeshadow, a green Beetle, laughter and I am - for those few minutes - far removed from a hot study.
I like to listen to new music because I think that sometime in the future it will remind me of the golden days I am now living. Not only does music make moods change but it allows us a key to the memories that we risk loosing if it is not part of our lives. Just as scents unlock memories so music has the same power. Flutes have been found in ancient graves of early man and I suspect drums have been around as long as we have been. Watching my little grandson dance for sheer pleasure makes me wonder if that is one of the things that brought us together. Fire, music, dancing all have magical qualities to them. I would like to think that even when we as a species have destroyed ourselves due to our own stupidity there will be the sound of music created by some other creature who feels the need to communicate with something larger than the I.
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