boars and fury

The bluesman makes an assertion, then revises it, restating it. The repetition is no righter than the originary line, but he’s moving on. Perhaps the accumulation of variations will be right. Maybe that tongueless guitar will talk it for him. He clenches his teeth, plays, listens.

The Gospel Singer’s bending the word “Lord” in her mouth. And in Lord there’s the “o” of ode and moan. She pushes it up, but it bats against the ridged ceiling of her palate. She pulls it down but it gutters out in her belly. It takes her no closer to Heaven than her body has ever let her go. Even so: lord lord lord.

— Douglas Kearney

Letter to New Scientist magazine:

Your piece on babies’ sense of rhythm (31 January, p15) made me wonder why rhythm is so attractive. Could it be connected to a fear of uncertainty?

When immersed in rhythmic music, the beat tantalises us with the illusion of near-certainty of what - in terms of sound - is about to happen in the next few moments.

For those few minutes the future holds no fear. Reacting to rhythm may be the only human activity that provides such a sense of precognition for an extended period.

(reckons John Gordon)

solfege

You may know that the syllables do - re - mi - fa - so - la - ti - do come from a plainchant hymn:

Ut queant laxis
resonare fibris,
Mira gestorum
famuli tuorum,
Solve polluti
labii reatum,
Sancte Ioannes.

(Ut later changed to do, and si to ti; don’t ask me why.) If not, there’s more to be read about it on Wikipedia, as always.

There’s a Japanese method for training perfect pitch created by a Mrs Eguchi. At first this image from one of the books on the subject looks utterly perplexing:

But soon becomes clear:

The same syllabic connection, but rather more sweet.

There’s also this adorable set of postures:

(images and information from an accidental google hit)