THE ORIGINAL MUSICAL INSTRUMENT

http://blog.moski.me/2012/05/human-voice.html
http://365newthoughtsperyear.blogspot.com/2012/12/aida-carmen-and-la-traviata-who-are-they.html

First, I give credit to "Moski Doski" whom I found during my search for an attractive, catchy picture for this thought of mine.  Here's his introduction to the thought that he had on this subject:

In spite of all our communication technology, no invention is as effective as the sound of the human voice. When we hear a human voice, we instinctively want to listen, in the hopes of understanding it. Even when the speaker is searching for the right words to say. Even when all we hear is yelling, or crying, or singing. That's because the human voice resonates differently from anything else in the world. 

That's why we can hear a singer's voice over the sound of a full orchestra. We will always hear the singer, no matter what else surrounds it.

I decided to get back to the process of writing because after a lay-off caused by a ton of other things, like earning $ being one, I can now sit on my Gold Bullion and turn to doing something that I like.  I have a line of notes to get back to, but this comes first because it has a strong dose of nostalgia tied to it.  I think I may have mentioned the core thought sometime before, but I'm going to chance it because this is a new twist.

Without getting into the grimy details of the story, let me just say that there came to my gray matter that there is a person in the world who refuses to sing "a capella" in the church choir. Must have instrumental music.  No music, no voice!  Oh boy!  That lit my fire.  I remembered the rather heated but very respectful and very humorous exchange between EFR Dion and my dear, dear, one-handed grandfather, Joseph.  My grandfather lit the fuse under EFR by asking me the challenge question: "What is the first musical instrument in the world?"  I tried everything that I could think of, and all he would repeat was "NO."  Then he simply said, "Ask your father."

I didn't know what I was in for, and I didn't have the slightest clue that there might be a skirmish in the still.  So, I asked my father.  He named a long string of instruments, some of which I had mentioned, but I somehow did not feel as though he had hit on it, and I said so.  So, of course, he said, "Ask your grandfather."  I did not sleep very well that night.  I was shivering all though the first half of the day because I knew that I was going to walk from school to Grandpa's house for lunch.  The only good thing about that day was that he had to work late that day and so he had now gone to work in the morning.  So, we did not walk together to get to lunch.

As a matter of distraction  let me say that all of this happened before there was a telephone at Grandpa's house.

I get there. I hug him. He hugs me back.  I get my feet back on the floor and when he's sure that I'm in balance he fires the dread volley: "Well, what did he say?"  

"Uh, Hummm, well, I don't know.  He named some stuff that I don't know about, but I still don't think he's right."

"He doesn't know?"

"Maybe he knows, but I don't think that anything he said last night is what it is.  So, I don't know."

"HA!  He doesn't know."

"Well, maybe..."

"Nope.  No 'Maybe.'  He doesn't know.  Whatever he said he was just guessing."

Now I have told you all that I am not afraid of my Grandfather.  But at this moment I am one uncomfortable 9 year old boy.  I sneak a peek at JMT Joyal, my beloved Grandmother, but she's staying safely protected by the cast iron stove.  This is man talk and she is not having any part of it.  

I'm going to try to save the day.  I offer a weak question,

"What do you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him that it's the human voice."

"The human voice?"  That was a reflex that I didn't think I had in me.

"Of course.  God made it so that people could sing to Him just like the angels do.  He should know that!"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure.  Father Ginet knows that too."

OOOooohhhh!  Now I know that my father can't win this one.  The feared/beloved/respected pastor knows.  All of a sudden I am now trembling not from Granpa fear but from the fear of having to tell EFR Dion that Joseph Thibault has one up on him.  Why oh why doesn't my grandfather have a telephone?

Dear reader, I will not stretch this out any more.  But this was a discussion that lasted a couple of weeks.  EFR Dion LOST, big time.  I am convinced that he deserved to lose.  I can say that now that he is comfortably in the Bosom of Abraham.

It brings me back to the "a Capella  refusal.  How can any singer, especially one in a church choir like the one to which I'm referring, with any real grasp of the rich truth that the human voice is the pre-eminent musical instrument on earth refuse to sing a Capella?   We have the one instrument that comes from God.  

Hearing about this the other day also made me remember the time that I was driving towards the San Francisco Bay Area of California and on the radio there was by happenstance a classical music radio station.  One of the presentations was a recording of an opera singer who was "playing" an instrumental composition with her voice.  No words, just the notes off the music sheet.  I had never heard anything like it before then and haven't had a similar experience since.  It was exhilaratingly beautiful.

In the traditional ways of the Catholic Church, the Lenten Season was a time when musical instruments were not to be played as accompaniments to the human voice.  That must have been "instrumental" in the development of Plain Chant since it is easier to sing a Capella and, in fact, sounds better that way.  

So, that is my stated conviction on that question.  I'm sticking to it and I am sure that it will be the reason why a big bunch of you will have absolutely no inclination to cry at my funeral.

MYSTERY OF LANGUAGE AND MUSIC

 I did this because I was thinking about the mystery of language and music the other day.  It's not a big mystery, I guess, but I do think about it now and then.  I wonder if there is a language technician somewhere in the world that I am going to meet one day.  During our conversation, that individual will be able to take the mystery about which I am going to write, out of my life.  During our conversation, the mystery will be turned into complete intellectual understanding.
Consider the different sounds of languages.  Consider that there are languages with practically no hills and valleys in their accentuation.  These are the languages where you can never put the accent on the wrong syllable.  Then there are languages where the accents add a lot to the meaning of the words spoken.  There are languages that have a lot of twisted tongue involvement.  Some have accents and tones too.  Some need to have the speaker put some throat stops into the sections of certain words.  I suppose I could go on, but I trust  that by now you get the point.  It is an introduction to the mystery of language and music.  It struck me the other day that although there are some languages that to some people may sound strange, and even unpleasant to hear, some languages come across as fluid and pleasant to the ear.  Even to the person to whom they mean absolutely nothing.  Now, after all that, I ask, <Why is it that every language has the ability to produce sweet music?>  Good grief, even the German language has sweet music, much of it admired internationally.  We've all heard the famous World War II bar song about Lily Marlene, right?  Oh, and by the way there is also a very sweet bar song that came out of Japan during that self-same war.  What about the famous Tagalog song, Dahil Sa iyo [Because of You].  What about Olivia Newton John?  Or the Beatles? Or Tom Jones?  Did you ever hear them speak during an interview?  What happens to their Cockney when they sing?  What about Celine Dion, my almost relative?  Or, for those of you old enough to remember, what about Maurice Chevalier?  
You all know that there has to be a mystery there somewhere.  It struck me the other night because I was listening to the National Public Radio station and the featured music was Norwegian love songs.  I was blown away.  Such sweetness!  I couldn't understand a word, but I was floating in air.  It struck me then that I would perhaps never understand what was happening, but as long as it was so beautiful, I would continue believing in it.
That's the way it is with mysteries.  As long as you enjoy them, you don't have to understand them.  We are surrounded by many such realities.  Some we embrace, some we reject.  Some attract us because of their ability to draw us into thinking that we would unlock them someday.  Some draw us to them because we like them just for what they are.  We feel no need to understand them as long as we can continue to enjoy them.  One way or the other, and maybe some more in between, I think that it is a good thing that I don't understand every little and big thing that accompanies me through life.  Not only would that make it impossible for you to live with me, it would be impossible for ME to live with ME.  Now that you know that about me, you have no reason to cry at my funeral.  If you did, THAT would be a mystery.