Tuesday, 12 February 2013


The very word makes my heart sing. Victor Hugo once said that 'Music expresses that which cannot be said, and on which it is impossible to be silent.' I had never heard such an apt description of music's purpose before I read that quote. An equally apt description of music itself is more difficult to find. It is an illusive thing; existing, but being hopelessly indefinable. And it is not as if definition has not been tried; yet, 'an art of sound in time that expresses ideas and emotions in significant forms through the elements of rhythm, melody, harmony, and color', doesn't seem to describe how moved, excited or satisfied we can be by listening to it.
Music resonates with our soul. Well-written songs and lilting melodies, heavy beats and intriguing lyrics tug at our heart. They have the power to move us to action or slow us to such a point of no action at all. They have the power to persuade. They have the power to spark revolutions. They have the power to change the world.
I write music. I handle this beautiful power when I write.
Anyone who writes music is handling it. How they handle it is up to them, but every word has a consequence. The words determine what revolutions are sparked and what parts of the world are changed.
Anyone who listens to music also handles it. But what they do with it once they have heard it is the listener's decision, completely.

'Will You Help Me', from The Village soundtrack, is an example of the power carried within simple notes and phrases. It is a beautiful piece. I did not truly notice it at first, though I listened to it every now and again, but then slowly, it grew on me. It found my heart and thumped into it. And I could not- cannot -pick why. Perhaps it is the gentle slurring of the notes as they mingle together, or the heartfelt ache of the violin. I don't know. What I do know is that whenever I hear it, I feel so sad, so joyful, and so empowered, all at once. And I love that.

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