You never thought that this column would open with a quote from Shakespeare; now did you? (Ah, please Lads … why can’t you just stay quiet and recognise a bit of culture?)
“If music be the food of love, play on”, is the famous opening line from ‘Twelfth Night.’ It is an inarguable fact that music does feed love and romance. We all are familiar with the scene where the violinist serenades the eye-locked couple at the dinner table. You anticipate quite correctly that this romantic rendering will seal the deal.
Back in the days of the showbands and you found yourself in the vicinity of the girl of your dreams, the sweetest music of the night would be to hear the bandleader announce, ‘and now we’re going to slow the tempo, folks.’ A ‘smoocher’ is what we called slow dances like Joe Dolan’s, ‘The Answer to Everything.’
If music be the food of love, it is also the food of war. Marching brass or pipe bands stir the blood in young men and make them want to fight. ‘A nation Once Again’, ‘The Minstrel Boy’ and ‘The Harp that Once’ have the capability to arouse nationalistic leanings, not only in the marchers, but within the breast of onlookers as well.
Every country has its own favourite marching tunes. The British do their thing to ‘Blaze Away’ and ‘It’s a Long way to Tipperary.’ The Scots march to the bagpipes – which has a similar effect on the enemy as canon balls. Probably the greatest marching tunes for a brass band goes to the Americans and the music of Sousa.
Music is also the food of moods. When I am enjoying a sauna, I tune into Lyric FM. Soft classical music at this point is good for body, mind and soul. Then there is a slightly different category required for melancholy and nostalgia. When Floyd Cramer plays ‘Last Date’, no words are needed to appreciate what the hauntingly beautiful piece of music is all about.
One way or another, music inspires all the emotions. The word ‘inspire’ means something like sharing the same bit of air that we breathe. So isn’t ‘inspire’ the perfect word to describe what music does to a group of people gathered closely together?
We referenced above, the old ‘smoochy’ numbers of the dance halls. But where would you leave a blast of rock n roll? As an old friend of mine, Jim Murtagh, might say; “wouldn’t that make a cripple dance!” Or the next wedding you are at, watch out for the scramble from table to floor, when the band strikes up ‘The Do Run Run, or ‘Hello Mary Lou’!’
Would you believe (and I know you will on account of who is telling you) that man invented musical instruments as far back as 5,000 years ago. Ancient man used bones and stones to fashion out a musical instrument to find a note on. It has been said that music brought people together since the beginning of time.
I love southern gospel music and this music does the inspiring thing better than any other type of music. (No, Lads …. I don’t do the crying bit) A lot of gospel music originates from old Negro (not sure if we are allowed use that word any more) spirituals. Many of the great American singers, including Elvis Presley, recorded the classic gospel hymns.
Other artists who springs to mind in this regard are Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis. Most country shows in America conclude with a rousing gospel number. The power of gospel music is that it can soften us up and open our hearts.
I shouldn’t have left this really sad bit until the final paragraph. This next line is so difficult for me to admit, that I keep it bottled up inside me. The truth is that I cannot sing. The music is in me, but it won’t come out of my mouth. I can rasp a tune on a mouth-organ, piano, or accordion … but not a recognisable note will split my lips.
The music stretches from the brain as far as the nose, and from the tips of my toes to the end of my long chin … but the notes just won’t come out of my mouth as ordered. This is the one thing about myself I would love to change.
It’s worse now because when I used to drink, I often spent the night merrily singing away (remember ‘That Silver-haired Daddy of Mine’, Lads?) and it sounded just fine to me at the time. Obviously, sobriety has played hell with my singing voice and I feel like the swan who would be perfect only for his black feet ….
Don’t Forget
The first thing a child learns when he gets a drum is that he’s never going to get another one.
