Another track from one of my Bandcamp albums as a trial of a longer piece using their new player gizmo. This one, mainly guitars and long delay loops…..
Posts Tagged ‘guitar’
All Day in the Sun
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged ambient, band camp, guitar, landscape, meditational, music, player on June 15, 2013| 2 Comments »
Soul’s Music
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged chord progression, composition, dream, edge, emotion, feeling, guitar, identity, language of sound, languageless communication, longing, music, note sequence, perception, Poetry, resonance, signature, Soul on May 14, 2013| 2 Comments »
SOUL’S MUSIC
This, then, is the music.
My head: a rippling stream,
A passing breeze,
A rustle, a lifting
And a falling.
Notes that cascade and tumble
But hold still.
New green leaves, new shade;
Harmonic tides,
Distant waves pierced:
The gull’s wheeling turn;
A slow stuttering starlight;
A bloom of sun, a drift of moon.
Fingers rippling on water strings
A remembrance, an essence, a perfume,
A rise of incense.
The turning of a page,
The sound of honest paper.
A rhythm of gardening,
A stroke of brushes,
A slow file turning soft, bright silver,
An edge revealed.
Trembling cascade,
Inevitable shift
From melancholic
To elegaic,
A broken heart soothed
Somehow
( but never mended).
The smell of rain.
The smell of summer.
A sequence moving along time,
Planned but reckless,
A bed, a couch, a cradle.
Always building to this matchlessness:
The revolving, wheeling heavens.
A path between dawn and dusk,
A road paved amongst the stars.
It is neither the truth
Nor the lie of words,
Neither the insistence
Nor the revealing of maps.
It is weaving the name of a soul,
A secret name known by all.
This music, a familiar mystery,
An itch, a longing, a homecoming
Just beyond that green hill.
Just beyond that hill.
***
There is that sort of dream wherein one listens to, or manages to play, the very essence of oneself, the most perfect delightful complete sounds, the most exquisite melody. Probably a compilation of the oldest, forgotten echoes from childhood, the phrases and rhythms that themselves formed the brain’s shape, how it moves within itself. Always fascinating, the way a composer or musician can be recognised by a phrasing, a pattern of intervals, a sequence of chords. As if they always return to those notes that name the shape of their own soul.
simonhlilly 