CRYING
A coupla thoughts: First, my houseplants behave like babies. They communicate a range of maladies with one symptom. That is, their leaves turn yellow and fall off. What are they trying to tell me, I wonder? Are they in a draft? Is there too much direct light? Not enough light? Too much water? Not enough water? What is it?! Impossible to say. The leaves keep on turning yellow and falling off. That's all there is to go on.
Secondly, my 'landlord' (nominally, notionally - I don't think there's a word invented yet for what we are) has gone on holiday. He's nervous about me being here and has reminded me that the flat was Very Expensive!... and should anything happen to it... and he'll never be able to afford such a place again... etc. All this made me feel terrible and reminded me of how I'll never join the ranks of his property-owning class. Bless him. When I attempted to set his mind at rest, he downplayed his anxiety. It's fairly clear though that he thinks I'm going to invite hordes of people around in his absence.
Anyway, while the landlord's away, the lodger *will* play.... This takes the form of reading books in the evenings instead of watching TV with him. Also, this morning I've been playing music he doesn't like, a fraction louder than normal. So, all in all, it's a tame kind of mutiny. One of the CDs I played today was Giant Steps, by John Coltrane. I opened up the sleeve notes as I knew that the astonishing Naima was written either for John's daughter or wife, but couldn't remember exactly who. Here's what the line notes say:
'The tender Naima - an Arabic name - is also the name of John's wife. "The tune is built", Coltrane notes, "on suspended chords over an Eb pedal tone on the outside. On the inside - the channel - the chords are suspended over a Bb pedal tone". Here again is demonstrated Coltrane's more than ordinary melodic imagination as a composer and the deeply emotional strength of all his work, writing and playing. There is a "cry" - not at all necessarily a despairing one - in the work of the best of the jazz players. It represents a man's being in thorough contact with his feelings, and being able to let them out, and that "cry" Coltrane certainly has.'
It's a very amazing piece of music.
A coupla thoughts: First, my houseplants behave like babies. They communicate a range of maladies with one symptom. That is, their leaves turn yellow and fall off. What are they trying to tell me, I wonder? Are they in a draft? Is there too much direct light? Not enough light? Too much water? Not enough water? What is it?! Impossible to say. The leaves keep on turning yellow and falling off. That's all there is to go on.
Secondly, my 'landlord' (nominally, notionally - I don't think there's a word invented yet for what we are) has gone on holiday. He's nervous about me being here and has reminded me that the flat was Very Expensive!... and should anything happen to it... and he'll never be able to afford such a place again... etc. All this made me feel terrible and reminded me of how I'll never join the ranks of his property-owning class. Bless him. When I attempted to set his mind at rest, he downplayed his anxiety. It's fairly clear though that he thinks I'm going to invite hordes of people around in his absence.
Anyway, while the landlord's away, the lodger *will* play.... This takes the form of reading books in the evenings instead of watching TV with him. Also, this morning I've been playing music he doesn't like, a fraction louder than normal. So, all in all, it's a tame kind of mutiny. One of the CDs I played today was Giant Steps, by John Coltrane. I opened up the sleeve notes as I knew that the astonishing Naima was written either for John's daughter or wife, but couldn't remember exactly who. Here's what the line notes say:
'The tender Naima - an Arabic name - is also the name of John's wife. "The tune is built", Coltrane notes, "on suspended chords over an Eb pedal tone on the outside. On the inside - the channel - the chords are suspended over a Bb pedal tone". Here again is demonstrated Coltrane's more than ordinary melodic imagination as a composer and the deeply emotional strength of all his work, writing and playing. There is a "cry" - not at all necessarily a despairing one - in the work of the best of the jazz players. It represents a man's being in thorough contact with his feelings, and being able to let them out, and that "cry" Coltrane certainly has.'
It's a very amazing piece of music.
