And The Crowds Roared, As The Music Rose

Mansa Jimmy live at The Piano Man

I have seen crowds screaming, 

I have seen my timelines collide,

I have seen my secret selves revealed,

I have seen unheralded tears fall.

.

In the company of strangers 

      I’ve loved myself,

in songs of heartbroken teens

      I have found redemptions,

under dark skies which echoed  

      I have thirsted for a fuller me. 

.

Grief alights unpredictably 

      as I dance,

a time when I can believe anything

      at all, 

as if the music notes were seeking

      destinies,

the whole universe screams 

      redefine! redefine! redefine! 

.

I have let music open my whole self,

to the earth, the sky, the moon,

an awakening in light and sound,

to one whole voice that is finally me. 

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Kate Perry’s surreal entry in a concert in Dallas

As I gear up for the Ed Sheeran show, I’ve been trying to fathom the excitement in me! I’ve seen some terrific shows - Ravi Shankar, Kylie Minogue, Kate Perry, Michael Jackson (omg - goosebumps!), Norah Jones, Michael Learns to Rock, and the innumerable gigs of favourite Indian singers and jazz bands - and somehow when I see tour rosters of my favourite artistes, I keep wondering if i can match my travelling plans to catch them perform.

And there are so many. The ones I would love to catch - Billie Eilish, Sia, Mansa Jimmy, Elisapie, Hania Rani, Birdy, Jon Batiste, Ali Sethi - just to name a few! And the ones I will regrettably never be able to hear - Leonard Cohen, The Doors, Ghulam Ali, The Beatles, Simon & Garfunkel. Somehow when I draw a circle, to denote the completeness of my life, these invariably feature as a factor.

It’s easy to say that we are merely listeners, as we sit in a hall, a stadium, under darkened ceilings or lie flat with starlight above. But when a listener gets drenched in the music she loves, there is both a transcendence and an immersion, which is as much a part of music being for the listener’s soul, as it is the musician’s  in creating sublimity.

I have stood with 50000 fans and sang along songs which each one of us knew by heart, and felt transported. Felt communion, felt lifted, knew the meaning of soaring.

Kylie Minogue live at the O2 in London

Apart from the concerts, with their presence of community and crowd, for me music is an intimate accompaniment to life rhythms. I have music playing almost through my waking hours. Soft, often indescribable, often random. But for me, it is a way to be more productive, to bold-italic-underline the moment. It makes life more important, richer. Whilst it is often considered mere distraction, it never is. It is forever giving. It enriches, even as it is played in the background.

I have often puzzled how the most puerile of lyrics (“love, love me do, I love you too” - for Christ’s sake!) become ear-worm and stay with us throughout our lives. Such is the power of music notes, the words and their inimitable interlinking. But in that remembrance they often transport us to some place of essential innocence, a place of swaying trees, a breezy arbour of sundrops and shade.

If music is first sound, then our first intimation of love - our Mum’s gentle cooing - has to be the first music note which gives us the confidence to believe the rest of the world. And possibly therein lies the kernel of music’s mysterious warmth and comfort, the reason why we often forget the notes but remember the feeling.

We are home with the music we love.

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Pass these forward - love, a lil’ appreciation, your big heart - and this substack :)

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