there's this french song in 'moulin rouge' called ' La Complainte de la Butte '. i don't even fucking understand the language.. but the song's been going on in my head since a while now. its beautiful. well, the amazing vocals of rufus wainwright did help ofcourse. but the beauty of it, i believe, lies in the simplicity of it all.
the simple melody wafts about and coils around your head, feeding in ears the delight of the luxuriantly sweet notes every now and then.
a while back i got introduced to edith piaf. her 'Non, je ne regrette rien' us absolutely fabulous. i mean, firstly hearing that almost guttural and lively voice is surprising & a pleasure in itself, but the melody.. its one of those compositions which take you, lift you and and then never leaves you through the life. it alights on your soul on a certain occassion and lifts you up everytime u feel low.
other such compositions are ennio morricone's music for cinema paradiso.. god its so beautiful. or the il postino theme. its orgasmic.
these compositions are soul food. i could die without them.
and what to say about moonlight adagio by beethoven. its sublime. it simply is. its life. its death. its earth. its moon. it is sublime.
it slowly envelopes all around and dissolved in the experience, it doesnt remain just music, its as if all senses closed in a singular ecstasy born of the adagio. oh! what is existence if not for such experience.
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2 comments:
You know the first thing I noticed was the number of posts in one day... awed me...
"anyways" ;)
It's such a coincidence that I recently wrote this poem on what music does to me. I named it "my musical ecstasy" but it sounds so sexual :|
and then I though... so what if it does? reading this piece that reaffirmed that. Music for me, and so many more, actually reaches a place which is so personal/deep inside there somewhere... you know?
I love the way you've said sublime. it fits like a glove. perfect :) :)
just one thought. such beautiful thoughts are certainly not 'wasteology' :)
the no. of posts.. well, certain days are meant for writing.. certain days for gazing.. certain to waste away and some other to walk about.
sexual, btw, is good. always is. i guess, it permeates all that we do and say. might as well reflect it through something as beautiful as neatly arranged words giving shape to sonorous truths of life.
btw, i started this blog uttering 'fuck all'.. i didnt write shit i write here earlier because i feared i would be thought of as some wannabe or pseudo-intellectual. fuck what others think. i feel better when in company of great creations. i can't help but talk about it. so here it is. waste for others, life for me.
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