Song

Agnes Obel and The Narrative

Short Coverage
See, the blooming narrative!
[Source – Pixabay]

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Tell me now of the very soul that look alike, look alike

Do you know the stranglehold covering their eyes?

If I call on every soul in the land, on the moon

Tell me if I’ll ever know a blessing in disguise…

The curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore

And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before

And the curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore

And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before…

The Curse, by Agnes Obel

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Listen to the song The Curse by Agnes Obel before reading further –


Humanity as an unabridged version, dancing forwards, backwards, forwards, in joy, in pain, walking down the lane is moving too fast and swaying too slow, thought she and wrote it on the blackboard. The white words looked silly but good. She gave a date to this thought and it made a ‘gong’ sound that ricocheted for fun.

The curse is the boon, thought she, but only once in a while when seen thus.

Retracing becomes easier than stepping forth and so one forgets.

And in the search for meaning when they get tired, they choose to imbibe what they hear from others, what they find familiar.

The familiar good that is, not the familiar grim; nevertheless, it is an overwhelming experience, thought she.

Just so you know the underlying emotion here when in search, is that of love – love that doesn’t chase meaning… for it owns it. A simple smile, gesture, hello-hi wave, acknowledging the tata-goodbye, is love triumphing over time.

Time notices it and smiles, each time just so you know. And she followed this thought and it withered away, it withered peacefully.

Now you take this cool-cool mountain air to the riverside and let it gush, let it fall as droplets. Sit by the riverside, fall and rise as someone else who is thrilled to continue the search.

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So let the narrative grow

like a rhizome, spreading then like Time

Without boundaries, fast and slow.


Here’s the official video of the song The Curse

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“The Curse” is a song I wrote after I read the book Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. It’s a book about the mind, and there is a chapter in the book about narrative fallacies, and I thought that was really interesting – how we construct these narratives of our own lives, even though so many things, almost anything that happens, is the result of a lot of things outside of our own control and doesn’t have any meaning – it’s completely accidental. But our minds want to put meaning into everything and to make sense of them. We’re like these “meaning machines” – human beings.

I thought it was really beautiful and interesting, because in a way, he says it’s why we invented math, music, science, and poetry: this need for meaning. And religion, and so forth. But there is also the flip side, why we have all these wars and these hardcore ideas of national identity. That you can go out and kill other people. It’s a blessing and it’s a curse. I just thought it was interesting, and then I wrote this song about it. Some people couldn’t figure out if it was a blessing or a curse.

Agnes Obel (Singer, Songwriter, Pianist)

Read the amazing Agnes Obel’s full interview here – Song Facts

Listen to the other three soulful songs that inspired the blogger to write this short coverage –

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Familiar by Agnes Obel –

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Just So by Agnes Obel –

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Riverside by Agnes Obel –

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The Drifting Montages

Short Coverage
Ya-hoy!
[Source – Pixabay]

Drifting, this and that moment, captured in a never-ending montage waltz, it makes and remakes our lives.

Together, when alone, we create and edit this montage sequence, frame by frame.

Don’t you remember? The balloons, basketball, buzzing busy bees, Bombay trip, babies, bright red fire? Don’t you remember the journey?

Of course you do! In this very instant you reminisce and…

“You know it’s not the same as it was
As it was, as it was…”

Harry Styles’ song ‘As It Was’ fantastically weaves such a drifting moment, recalling, evoking and celebrating the bitter-sweet juncture in chorus.

It is like tying a melody to the evanescence of such montages.

Remember the beats are heard saying, ours, it is ours, this life. So waltz ahead, brave one, for it won’t be the same.


Listen to Harry Styles’ As It Was now –


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The Circle Game, Joni Mitchell, You and Me

Coverage

The Circle Game

Yesterday a child came out to wonder

Caught a dragonfly inside a jar

Fearful when the sky was full of thunder

And tearful at the falling of a star

And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We’re captive on the carousel of time

We can’t return we can only look behind

From where we came

And go round and round and round

In the circle game

– by Joni Mitchell

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The everlasting, all-embracing, ebullient circle game is manoeuvring it all so well. The cycle of life, the movement of planets and the galaxies, the journey of every individual swivel beautifully.

Joni Mitchel’s beautiful song The Circle Game from the album Ladies of the Canyon is a reminder, I feel, to remember the rules of the circle game.

A game in which we all are participating no matter how forgetful we may be.

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The Circle Game, play well dear me. Image from Pixabay.

Stories have been working from the very beginning to prove the presence of the circle game; every story that was ever written or will be written becomes complete when it forms a neat circle in the end.

It could be a linear circle with a clear structure like Macbeth or it could be a non-linear circle that nicely and freely waits for its completion in the viewers’ mind just like this song.

“So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty/ Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true/ There’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty/ Before the last revolving year is through…”

The Boy is twenty and life has happened; he has fallen but is hopeful, and there is still time for him to give it another try. And life goes on.

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The circling theory of Karma – what goes around comes around, the circling nature of the first law of the thermodynamics – energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it only changes its form, the ancient Ouroboros symbol, for instance, all voice the same truth.

“We’re captive on the carousel of time/ We can’t return, we can only look behind/ From where we came/ And go round and round and round/ In the circle game.”

“Captive on the carousel of time”, curtly this hits the mind and the realisation disturbs languidly.

Like a plaything, like “the painted ponies”, we are tied to the carousel of time. And the only way forward is to continue.

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Time to carousel! [Image from Pixabay]

Moving forward not painted-pony-like, limited and not captive every individual in this life holds the power to swivel in her fashion.

Destined and yet free, that is how life is, by nature paradoxical.

We are not separate, we are one with the circle game, we add to its beauty as we go round and round and together we are moving towards its never-ending end.

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Listen to this track now –

(Read the lyrics here.)


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Papyrus Talks

Literary Nonsense
Turn the hourglass over.
[Source – Pixabay]

Yes, all your talks are papyrus talks; that is why your breath smells of quaint urns. You’re still trying to sell old gossips that were packed and preserved in those canopic jars.

I have seen you dancing your fingers on the rock faces. And you hold that old text so dear to you. Don’t try to hide your love for it only confuses you and the listener.

Oh, that beautiful Nile song of yours, it shimmers and shines and colours the time into desert gold.

But mystery remains says the hourglass… probably that is why all your talks are papyrus talks.


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Rain! Rain!

It is raining music and the birds are loving it.
[Image by Lisa McCarty from Pixabay]

Though I know it is not raining

I hope it did; I am carrying

Colours of life that I wish I could

Mix in me, and then surely I would

Live. Often do people say

‘It was raining on that evil day’

I hope they won’t, because they don’t

Understand rain. They don’t feel rain.


Rainfall is the dancing of clouds and

The song of the Nature. The land

Becomes alive and happy; ‘I’ becomes

‘We’, playing with the paper boats

And all the musicians taking notes

Rain rain, rain-rain.

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