I once saw a performance of Meistersinger where the bass singing Pogner gave such an insensitive performance (blasting his way through the music like an aurally challenged walrus) that I felt physically ill after Act 1, barely got through Act 2, but managed to pull myself together for the rest (where he has mercifully little to sing). I have heard some ropey performances in my time but nothing like that ever struck me before or since.
Unexpected reactions to music
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Well I could write a book.
Where to start.
When I was seriously depressed in the late 90s,and there seemed only one way out,there was a period when I couldn't listen to music.
Trouble was I could still hear the stuff everywhere.
I didn't hear Jayne's soft or distant sounds.
What I heard was
RVW London Symphony in the Manchester traffic
Elgar 2 in the wind blowing through the trees.
John Ireland's Cello Sonata,everywhere,exquisitely emotionally evocative of something,I knew not what.
Mendelssohn songs without words in the sound of rain.
The last part of Yes's Gates of Delerium (yes rock music too) was never far from my thoughts,but I couldn't listen to the damn thing,
Soon, oh soon the light,
Pass within and soothe this endless night
And wait here for you,
Our reason to be here.
Used to make me so angry.
Therapy and such changed all this,nowadays I have to listen to music to preserve my sanity.
I still hear music in everyday places and situations,I could give hundreds of examples.
I remain convinced that RVW's music saved my life,not sure about the whys and wherefores of how that's possible but there you go.
Originally posted by kernelbogey View PostI don’t anyway listen to much Radio 4, have cut back on listening to news broadcasts - simply too depressing
I followed that advice and have never looked back.
Sorry about the random thoughts,hope I haven't bored you too much.
This is one of the few places I can say such stuff.
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Originally posted by EdgeleyRob View PostWell I could write a book.
Where to start.
When I was seriously depressed in the late 90s,and there seemed only one way out,there was a period when I couldn't listen to music.
Trouble was I could still hear the stuff everywhere.
I didn't hear Jayne's soft or distant sounds.
What I heard was
RVW London Symphony in the Manchester traffic
Elgar 2 in the wind blowing through the trees.
John Ireland's Cello Sonata,everywhere,exquisitely emotionally evocative of something,I knew not what.
Mendelssohn songs without words in the sound of rain.
The last part of Yes's Gates of Delerium (yes rock music too) was never far from my thoughts,but I couldn't listen to the damn thing,
Soon, oh soon the light,
Pass within and soothe this endless night
And wait here for you,
Our reason to be here.
Used to make me so angry.
Therapy and such changed all this,nowadays I have to listen to music to preserve my sanity.
I still hear music in everyday places and situations,I could give hundreds of examples.
I remain convinced that RVW's music saved my life,not sure about the whys and wherefores of how that's possible but there you go.
It was suggested to me by a psychiatrist that I should stop reading newspapers and watching or listening the news.
I followed that advice and have never looked back.
Sorry about the random thoughts,hope I haven't bored you too much.
This is one of the few places I can say such stuff.
Hope you're getting over overhanging trees........
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I have reached a stage in life where I am no longer bothered to listen to anything except certain works which have had a significant impact or influence upon my life.
I read the reports and comments upon concerts by other message boarders with interest, but feel no desire to make any personal contribution or offer any opinions on the merits or otherwise of, especially, new works or (for me) unacceptable standards of performance or interpretation; but I am happy to answer questions (where I can) on any aspects of musical entertainment.
HS
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Chatting to Beef Oven! at the Proms last night, I suddenly recalled on of my strongest reactions to music.
A year or so back, there was discussion on the board around Britten's operas, and the 1966 televised Billy Budd received several recommendations.
Not really knowing Britten Opera well, or at all really, I thought I would give it a go. Unfortunately,after a short while, I found the emotions portrayed far too powerful and difficult to deal with at the time , and I haven't been back since, sadly.Perhaps now is a good time.
The only other music I can recall being unable to deal with in a similar way, ( and unexpectedly ,to stay on topic), were Nono's Canto Sospeso, and Scott Walker's album Bisch Bosch. Walker, incidentally, is a musician I have a great deal of time for.
In all cases it is the power of the language driven and magnified by the music that has produced the effect , I suppose.I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own.
I am not a number, I am a free man.
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Originally posted by EdgeleyRob View PostIt was suggested to me by a psychiatrist that I should stop reading newspapers and watching or listening the news.
I followed that advice and have never looked back.
The Big Chariot
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
You will only make yourself wretched.
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
Or you will never escape from your despair.
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
You will only load yourself with care.
Ancient Chinese wisdom...."...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
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Originally posted by Caliban View PostI thought of you this morning, Rob, as I listened to James Gilchrist singing the first of Britten's Songs from the Chinese (the Edinburgh Festival recital today starting at 11am): each verse ends as follows
The Big Chariot
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
You will only make yourself wretched.
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
Or you will never escape from your despair.
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
You will only load yourself with care.
Ancient Chinese wisdom....
I stopped reading the papers over 20 years ago. Saved me a hell of a lot of time, ( wonder what I did with it?!)and probably heartache as well. Haven't watched TV news in years . current affairs on radio is just something I catch by accident waiting for the weather or sports updates.
A sneaky look at google news headlines is my limit these days.I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own.
I am not a number, I am a free man.
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Originally posted by Caliban View PostI thought of you this morning, Rob, as I listened to James Gilchrist singing the first of Britten's Songs from the Chinese (the Edinburgh Festival recital today starting at 11am): each verse ends as follows
The Big Chariot
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
You will only make yourself wretched.
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
Or you will never escape from your despair.
...
Don't think about the sorrows of the world;
You will only load yourself with care.
Ancient Chinese wisdom....
That's exactly where I was at one time.
It's a difficult habit to break,watching the news religiously and reading newspapers in every spare moment.
Then feeling out of touch when friends and work colleagues discuss the latest stories.
Doesn't bother me in the slightest nowadays,more music listening time.
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Originally posted by EdgeleyRob View PostVery wise words Cali.
That's exactly where I was at one time.
It's a difficult habit to break,watching the news religiously and reading newspapers in every spare moment.
Then feeling out of touch when friends and work colleagues discuss the latest stories.
Doesn't bother me in the slightest nowadays,more music listening time.
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Originally posted by teamsaint View Postgreat wisdom indeed, Cals.
I stopped reading the papers over 20 years ago. Saved me a hell of a lot of time, ( wonder what I did with it?!)and probably heartache as well. Haven't watched TV news in years . current affairs on radio is just something I catch by accident waiting for the weather or sports updates.
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I could write a book on this topic. In fact, I think I have done. The starting point is that the music I like and share a liking of with other people is more me than me in my mind except that it isn't more me than me obviously. It is recorded by other people. It isn't that I don't communicate well with other people - the charitable say I have abilities in that regard - but I find it the nearest to coherent self-identity and the most fundamental connection in human terms and always have done. This works for better and for worse.
It provides a significant sense of communion especially in a crowd that I wouldn't feel when just talking and listening with those alongside me including people I know so well as to be almost family. That, I think, is a plus. It is a deep, uplifting and rich experience. On the less good side, when I was in a flat with people next door who were drugged up out of their minds, banging doors, doing karaoke and playing football against our shared walls, I would play my music fairly quietly but imagine them listening to it and finding common values and purpose. That was not so good as at the worst point I was being them in my head as they would never unfortunately in actuality be listening to some sort of version of me/us on records where I could feel a meeting of minds. I sort of realized over time that in that juxtaposition I was absent. But that really underpins the key point in many ways.
Happy to meet the like-minded in the self-help group at any time.
Chapter 2 - Three of us set out to walk a part of the Yorkshire Dales. On arriving at Grassington by bus, we walked directly into the kind of thunderstorm where it feels like the afternoon is night. With rucksacks on our backs and desperate for a B and B, we followed the first sign we saw and along the path we took was the proverbial large haunted house. Turrets. You name it. Lightning above it. There may have been a bat or two flying above it. When the heavy door swung open, a very prissy and eccentric woman ushered us in once she had placed plastic bags on our feet. Not responding to our questions about what accommodation she could offer, she required us to tour the establishment admiring her mouseman furniture. Yes, on every table and chair there was a carving of a mouse. And just past the long and very grand staircase there was the sound above the rain of a piano. A piece by Debussy I think. Anxious, unnerved, stifling laughter and not a little mystified, something was needed to establish a bit of regular certainty. "That is beautiful" I said. "Is it on record?" No, apparently it was her niece upstairs rehearsing. "I don't see what people see in it" she said. "I can't stand music, I loathe it all." And it was the first time that it had ever dawned on me that some people could loathe music. Not some of it. All of it. If everything else had been odd, that was the oddest thing to me. I almost went into shock.Last edited by Lat-Literal; 26-08-15, 20:16.
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