There is a song by the Carpenters titled “Yesterday once more”. I have just been sitting in my cafe and in the background there has been playing just audible enough for my mind to follow, and be annoyed by the sound that inevitably makes me listen more attentively, and work out the tune transcribed for the solo piano. One of those beloved coffee shop instrumental CD compilations. Carpenters followed by Tchaikovsky “Dance of the Cygnets” of all things! It is on the repeat cycle. Clearly they only want me to have one Green Tea and be on my way! Anymore and my will to live, decreases with each repeat of a tune.
The real Karen Carpenter however had a voice that was unmistakable as you hear if you click the link above. A voice that was distinct, melodious and perfect for those romantic, nostalgic ballad popular songs of the 1960-1970s. I did not hear her voice in the cafe obviously, but my memory and mind supplied the missing components.
Another such distinctive voice was John Lennon. His rebuttal of ideologically motivated violence in the Beatles track, Revolution is not merely in pursuit of vocational and commercial rewards: his voice connecting to his beliefs, his spirit, on this occasion. You can feel it. It is more than the lyrics being sung.
Of course pop singers occupy a vastly over-inflated position in our personality obsessed culture. In my opinion.
I was unluckily and unfortunate enough to see a clip this past week of Madonna cavorting on a stage. Not sure of her voice now, nor her desire to still perform in such a way, it inspired nothing in me except a sadness. A sadness for my own teenage self sitting on a London Bus (old style red Route Master, No 279 from Waltham Cross to Liverpool Street that my friend Phillip’s father used to conduct, and once, gave me a free ride!) listening to Madonna’s first albums on a Sony personal Cassette player with headphones! I am glad that young Syre he is still there, in my soul somewhere, roaming aimlessly. Idiots have their uses and I can chart some knowledge, some wisdom, since then.
Madonna? Not this latest image nor her voice of today. The clip reminded me more of the Christmas Turkey, stuffed, and wrapped in tin foil ready for the oven! Of course, such a bird is still a feast and a sign of celebration, I suppose.
As my formative years were coinciding with the 1980s and I am an Englishman, there is one voice that shaped my world of politics preeminently. Margaret Thatcher’s voice is still a fascination for me today when I hear her in clips or memes. It is not the politics. It is the voice. She projected an old school headmistress from some Cotswoldian golden brick Victorian Non-Conformist school for young ladies: with a hard nosed shopkeepers view of this weeks business. Whilst standing tall in the male dominated House of Commons as a dominatrix without any need of the usual leather fashioned sordid garb.
Even more interesting was the actor Steve Nallon who parodied Mrs Thatcher’s voice superbly well in the 1980s on the sartorial puppet haven that was the TV Show Spitting Image. His skill in using his voice an interesting tack from my theme.
Then there are those voices I have never heard. The voices of authors that my own mind creates for me as I read their words written for me in ink and on paper. Each author coming to me through the pages and gradually creating their own ‘voice’ in my head. Agatha Christie for example, whom I devoured as a teen, spoke through the page like one of my real aunts speaking serious stuff, over a cup of Earl Grey tea and a Mr Kipling iced fancy (pink one).
When Jean and I were in Vigan a couple of weeks back I noticed an unusual statue outside the Cathedral Church. Among all the Saints with their various signs and props, stood Joseph holding in his arms the baby Jesus. It struck me almost immediately and we spoke about it together at the time, how that is unusual in my limited experience. I wonder what his voice would be like if the good Doctor Luke had interviewed him as I feel certain he did with Mary?
There is a scene in Monty Python’s film ‘The Holy Grail’ where Sir Galahad the Chaste is lost and finds his way to a Castle full of nubile young ladies. Prime among them is Zoot and her apparently identical Sister, Dingo. I am ashamed to say that Jane Austin has that voice and vibe in my head when I am reading Pride and Prejudice!
George MacDonald who still walks with me as softly as a Quaker on Sunday. His voice is like a ships bell, clear, true and like a brother with a Bill Patterson type Scottish accent.
Of course there are those voices that interpret musical scores as well. Not the Composer themself, but someone else taking that inscribed stave and making it live for me through their superlative instrument, the voice. Too many to mention here. So I thought it interesting to note who has not had an impact upon me in this regard: Maria Callas.
This is her Centennial Year. I have read articles about her perfomances. As of yet, I have not bought any of her work. Where to begin with such an artist revered half a century after her untimely demise? Perhaps readers will have some advice for me in this regards.
Of course Composers too have a ‘voice’ in their instrumental work. For example J.S. Bach is like the German Psychiatrist I have never had, and because of his work, I do not need. As the notes of the Well Tempered Claviar sound out over my HiFi it is like his very hands pressing a keyboard of emotions in my mind and I swear I hear a small voice say ‘Das wird deinen Geist Heilen’.
Yet, what of my own voice? What about your voice?
Will my Sons hear my voice in their heads in the future when they read my work? I feel that I am just only beginning to find my voice. I hope it is not too late to leave to my inheritors a glimpse of this one out of Six Billion Spirit speaking in this Time.
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Have a blessed week everyone as I certainly need it this week myself!
Was in Italy recently and also noticed a statue of Joseph holding Jesus. It struck me similarly.
Although not as moved by music as thou, I also find Bach to be a master mover of psychology. His immense knowledge must make him one of the true ministers and maestros of the very wells of time. Remarkable.