Resonant Frequencies

The opera diva breaking a crystal goblet is a timeworn example. By hitting just the right note as hard as possible, ever increasing vibrations build up in the glass that will eventually cause it to shatter. The right note is innate, born into the individual glass, and will not be exactly the same from goblet to goblet. This profound gathering of energy from music not only happens to glass, but it happens to people.

There is music that gives my soul exactly timed pushes, and imparts energy to the center of my being. There’s no particular rhyme or reason to which songs work for me. Sometimes it’s the tune; other times it’s the words. The song could be a great classic, or a maudlin folk song. The song might be a perpetual favorite of mine, or something that will suddenly strike me like lightening when the moment is right, though I may have heard it a hundred times before.

This is not a list of “Songs I Like,” at least not in the traditional sense. There might be something in songs I like that strikes me on a visceral level, but I’m still able to relegate them to the role of background music if I have to. The songs I write of now are songs that demand that I stop everything, sit down and listen. They’re songs that somehow reach through my chest, grab my heart, and refuse to let go until the last cord has sounded. This entrancement happens at some buried level of consciousness and I usually can’t figure out why the particular song affects me that way when other similar songs don’t.

Some songs apparently speak to the stage of life I’m in, or something I’ve endured, or something I believe in fiercely. But for every song on this list for which I can make a theory about, I can think of four songs that have a similar theme but which don’t strike that resonant chord within me. If you ever want to stop me in my tracks though, burn a CD with the following songs onto it, and play it in my presence.

  Birches, Bill Morrissey
  As Bad As It Gets, Christine Lavin
  Song of the Candle, Stan Rogers
  Gaudete, as performed by anyone, though I have a preference for either Steeleye Span or the Mediæval Bæbes
  The Cat Carol, Meryn Cadell (I expected this one to be a temporary fad, but it still hasn’t gone away.)
  Persuasion, Teddy and Richard Thompson
  O mio babbino caro, Kiri Te Kawana
  Eye of the Hurricane, David Wilcox
  Spring Street, Dar Williams
  Cavatina (Theme from “The Deer Hunter”)(The link leads to a tribute site that has a somewhat cheesy midi version of the song, useful only as a mental jog. You haven’t truly heard the song until you’ve heard J W’s version), written by Stanley Myers, as played by John Williams (the guitarist, NOT the guy who wrote the Star Wars theme)
  “It Was a Very Good Year”, written by Ervin M. Drake, as sung by Frank Sinatra

Music seems to be the theme of the day. It’s one of the few Saturdays I have to work each year, and it makes me feel apart from the rest of the world. Most of my department does not have to come in, and their weekend will be a swirl of Christmas preparations, housework and recreation. There are few people on my end of the building, and even The Minion is spending very little time in his office today. I listened to my CD’s while I started the thankless job of clearing away files from 2004 and setting up new files for 2005.

The production part of the plant is fairly busy today, though, and I was called over there on a rather regular basis. The room I spend most of my time in is fairly analogous to any standard factory setting. Most workers have set positions on the floor where they stand and do their jobs, while a handful of floaters move from point to point keeping an eye on things and tending to problems. The majority of people in this part of the plant are Hispanic, and most are also fairly young (twenties or early thirties). The room is noisy, and ear protection must be worn. It makes communication difficult, but not impossible.

Whistling and tapping out rhythms with metal on metal is fairly common. Singing is also common, and several of the young men have beautiful voices that carry over the industrial background din. They seldom sing any songs to completion, but instead repetitively sing a line or two. The season and having to work on a Saturday seems to have some impact on that, though.

This morning the floor was happily engaged in singing a variety of Christmas oriented songs. Some were in Spanish, and I only recognized “Felice Navidad” of those. Many other songs were whistled, including a rather clever improv of “Jingle Bells” juxtaposed with “Silver Bells”. That particular number started when half the room was unrelentingly doing “Jingle Bells” over and over again, while the other half of the room had gotten tired of it and wanted to move on to something else. It went from a battle to a cooperative effort, and the resulting hybrid song caught on and became a new floor favorite for quite a while.

It’s only a week before Christmas, and by my calendar a limited amount of caroling is now permitted. If I’ve got to listen to Christmas music, I’d rather listen to this than to any 24/7 All Christmas, All the Time radio station.

OK, onto sundries. I received an early Christmas present from a good friend in a faraway place in the mail about a week ago. Due to the time constraints of this year, I haven’t yet adequately thanked them, and owe them a good email. I hope to sneak this in during work sometime this week, since I’m busy every night this week after work. I also received an unexpected Christmas package from a new friend in a faraway place this week that quite surprised me. This too shall have to be responded to at some time this week.

I won’t be getting out of work earlier than six o’clock any night this week, and later than that most days. After work Monday I need to take Clueless to the vet. After work Tuesday I’m wrapping presents at Barnes and Noble until 10:00 pm to help raise funds for the cat shelter I help with. I’m doing the wrapping thing on Friday, Christmas Eve, as well. The wrapping is free, but we ask for donations. I’m hoping that there will be a lot of desperate people out there Christmas Eve who will gladly fork over major amounts of moola in exchange for getting their last minutes wrapped minutes before they have to take it to Aunt Dodie’s house. That leaves me a few hours Wednesday and Thursday to finish buying and wrapping presents in anticipation of Saturday. I’ll be glad when the holidays are over.

We hit The Socialist’s office Christmas party last night. I have to admit that it wasn’t as much fun as the last one I attended two years ago, but that might have been a function of how tired I was. I did break the diet there, but since I missed dinner I’m trying to convince myself it’s a small transgression. I have no aims regarding weight loss over the next two weeks, save that I don’t want to gain anything.