This Phenomena Called Music

There is nothing like ambling along through the shadows and scents of an old park on a warm spring afternoon. We packed sandwiches and drinks into a small tote and Chauncey gamboled around us like the eternal puppy that he is. Music drifted over us from some distant source too far away to be identifiable, but the voice of the trumpet could not be silenced by the breeze. Plaintive and clear, it evoked thoughts of hot humid southern nights where the whiskey is warm and the jazz so heavy it slides down sweat soaked skin in slow rivulets of hope and despair. I found myself sighing and then felt the catch in my throat as unknown memories tugged at my heart.

Music does this to me, carries me away to places I've only dreamed about. Places where primal memories can only come from Jung's collective unconscious and yet they carry all the emotional baggage of real places. Jazz and Klezmer, folk and sometimes even rock, grab hold of my soul, linking me to all the human race in the notes of times I can only imagine.

Klezmer music always catches me by surprise. The wailing notes of the violin making my feet ache to dance the dances I never knew, the soft syllables of words I don't understand speaking to me in stories more felt than heard. Tears well up and I yearn for those times that hide somewhere deep within the molecules of my body.

Traditional folk music has been known to reach down bike trails, luring me to downtown music fests where I stand in awe, like some groupie, until the band stops and then I must talk to them, hear their stories, buy their CD's and get their autographs so I can save this moment forever.

There is Roger Daltrey singing "Behind Blue Eyes." Whether he sings it with The Who, or The Chieftains, or anywhere else, he never fails to stir my soul.

And, of course, there are those personal moments when a musician plays just for me, those are the very best of all, the times when tears have sometimes poured down my face in unashamed joy.

Today it was the voice of a trumpet, just a little bit of jazz floating across the park. Who knows what it will be tomorrow, or the next time I am hijacked by the sounds of this phenomena called music.