listersgirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
listersgirl) wrote2003-05-01 02:44 pm
listersgirl) wrote2003-05-01 02:44 pm
Entry tags:
Happy May!
It's funny how songs work themselves into your consciousness. My mother, for one, has a number of songs that you can catch her whistling all through the day. She's whistled these same songs for so long that they've mutated and become brand new songs, but every once in a while you can catch a glimpse of the original tune coming through -- "English Country Garden" "Bushel and a Peck", and my favourite, "Mein Herr", which has become something from a 50's girl group, and which I didn't identify until I was in university, even though the music from Cabaret was constantly playing in my household.
I'm not much for whistling, although I will hum, sing out loud, tap rhythms with my fingernails, play tunes with my toes, and use my teeth to create complex patterns. The music is always there, and always needs to come out somehow. Sometimes two songs will merge into one, and I won't notice until the end of the day that I've been finishing one song with the chorus from another. Once I had "I am the Walrus" in my head for three days straight, only I was singing "eggplant" instead of "eggman" and I knew that was wrong and told myself that was wrong, and still, I was the eggplant. I took voice lessons for a while, and so sometimes the songs are there in the non-specific version, the version that you would get from the sheet music. Those times, I'm actually singing in my head -- it's my voice I hear, and I can change the song as much as I want. Of course, I also have to remember all the words on my own. The ones that I find odd are the songs that are in my mind complete with performance. The ones where if I listen too hard, I lose the song completely (because it's not like I actually know it or anything), but if I pretend I'm not listening it's as if there's a recording in my brain. It's a little eerie, because half the time I couldn't even tell you the name of the song, or who's singing, but there it is, like my own private radio station.
You'd think with all this music floating around I'd be superb at identifying songs based on a few lyrics or a sung melody line, but I'm not. I'm terrible. The closest I can ever come is "oh, wait, that sounds familiar, I think I played that some time". And it's not like I haven't had numerous chances to show off my lack of skill; after all, I've worked at a CD store, a sheet music store and two music libraries. Plus, you know, that music degree. Seriously, ask me to identify something, and it's like I'm hearing music for the first time.
The odd thing is that these days I find I'm not as interested in music as I feel I should be, considering my history and my profession. I mean, I still love listening to music, and musical theatre is definitely one of my Jeopardy categories, but give me the arts section of the paper, or a pop culture magazine, and I will read about theatre, tv, books, movies, all before I read about music. I don't get excited when bands I like come to town; not the way I get excited when it's a new Gilmore Girls. And honestly, this makes me sad, because I feel like I'm missing something, like I should be out there listening to music on the edge and making all the new discoveries that I can share with my friends, like I do with books. But then I see that Elaine Stritch is coming to town, and I'm happy again.
I'm not much for whistling, although I will hum, sing out loud, tap rhythms with my fingernails, play tunes with my toes, and use my teeth to create complex patterns. The music is always there, and always needs to come out somehow. Sometimes two songs will merge into one, and I won't notice until the end of the day that I've been finishing one song with the chorus from another. Once I had "I am the Walrus" in my head for three days straight, only I was singing "eggplant" instead of "eggman" and I knew that was wrong and told myself that was wrong, and still, I was the eggplant. I took voice lessons for a while, and so sometimes the songs are there in the non-specific version, the version that you would get from the sheet music. Those times, I'm actually singing in my head -- it's my voice I hear, and I can change the song as much as I want. Of course, I also have to remember all the words on my own. The ones that I find odd are the songs that are in my mind complete with performance. The ones where if I listen too hard, I lose the song completely (because it's not like I actually know it or anything), but if I pretend I'm not listening it's as if there's a recording in my brain. It's a little eerie, because half the time I couldn't even tell you the name of the song, or who's singing, but there it is, like my own private radio station.
You'd think with all this music floating around I'd be superb at identifying songs based on a few lyrics or a sung melody line, but I'm not. I'm terrible. The closest I can ever come is "oh, wait, that sounds familiar, I think I played that some time". And it's not like I haven't had numerous chances to show off my lack of skill; after all, I've worked at a CD store, a sheet music store and two music libraries. Plus, you know, that music degree. Seriously, ask me to identify something, and it's like I'm hearing music for the first time.
The odd thing is that these days I find I'm not as interested in music as I feel I should be, considering my history and my profession. I mean, I still love listening to music, and musical theatre is definitely one of my Jeopardy categories, but give me the arts section of the paper, or a pop culture magazine, and I will read about theatre, tv, books, movies, all before I read about music. I don't get excited when bands I like come to town; not the way I get excited when it's a new Gilmore Girls. And honestly, this makes me sad, because I feel like I'm missing something, like I should be out there listening to music on the edge and making all the new discoveries that I can share with my friends, like I do with books. But then I see that Elaine Stritch is coming to town, and I'm happy again.
In which I basically go "me too!"
I actually got a panicked phone call from a friend a couple of months ago begging me to help her identify some orchestral piece and win a bet for her. I really, really wanted to help. The best I could do was say that I thought the cover sheet may have said "Overture", that it was probably Rossini, or possibly Mozart... or Verdi? and that I still had the piccolo part memorized. Yeah, helpful.
Meanwhile, I walk around the house humming twittery coloratura things all day. I start with the last line of an aria from The Magic Flute, barrel straight into Barber, and fill out the middle with bits from Don Giovanni and Cosi. I guess except for the Rossini it's a Mozart coloratura medley, but what I'm trying to get across here is that I too blend songs together until my version is the one I know best, and it must be very frustrating to live with me, especially since I don't in any way have the F for the first Mozart section. :)
As for having a disproportionate lack of actual general interest in music... dude. I'm your girl.
Gah.
Oh, that reminds me
Re: Oh, that reminds me
Yep, looks like German all right.
What, you wanted more?