My soul is soothed by music.
“Well, of course.”
Nope – not like that. I mean that I am hypnotized, paralyzed, acquiesced by the movement of human hands over the keys of a piano, or over the strings of an acoustic guitar.
Thomas Newman may, in fact, be one of my heroes.
I’ve always considered it great fortune that the roommates who came to live with me tended to be musical. Ironic as well, given my ongoing lack of musical talent. I don’t think any of my roommates ever really knew how deeply satiated I felt when they picked up their guitars for an impromptu studio moment. It’s one of those few scenes in life that I don’t mind a dramatic description even when it involves me. They were never frequent, but the scenes did occur…
It’s early 2004, I’m lounging in my papasan chair as I watch the traffic speed by my low-income apartment. I’ve been worrying about an upcoming final all afternoon. I’ve been lonely because she left me. I’ve been worried about money because it ran out. My fridge is still full of food, but my stomach is empty. I can’t eat.
Suddenly, a light twang reaches my left ear.
Isaac must have slipped into the livingroom without my noticing. The unintentional twang was the release of the high-E on a perfectly tuned acoustic guitar. As he plops down on our 1970’s, orange and brown striped hide-a-bed couch, I stifle a chuckle. College living is great.
I know better than to even look his way. Why would I give him the pressure of an audience. That might distort his freedom. I know it would ruin mine. No – I just stare at the traffic. Watching cars can put you into a trance – like staring at the rain, or the flame of a candle. Before I have a chance to think about what I would wish for him to play, his fingers start moving over the strings.
My eyes close. it’s a beautiful view.
I’m not even sure what melody is reaching my ears, but I can feel my body begin to float above the papasan chair. Warmth and carelessness envelop me. A passion for deep breathing takes over and I pray that the music doesn’t ever stop. i become aware of my own heartbeat.
The music always does stop, of course. But those few moments are so worth waiting for. If any of this speaks true to you – if melancholy piano and instrumental music help you to feel alive, I strongly recommend the following artists. If you have any to add, please do.
- Thomas Newman
- Rachel Portman
- Philip Glass
- The Planets Suite by Gustav Holst
- Jim Brickman
- Moby
- John Williams (some of it isn’t cheesy)
- Vivaldi
- Michael W Smith (his piano work)
- James Horner
