music

I've been meaning to write about music for a long time. I think between color and music, color is more important to me (I'd rather be deaf than blind), yet music still is a group of threads in the tapestry of my existence, and it would be a rather threadbare existance without music.

my house has always supported a disjointed caccophany of music- the mostly mellow music of mine in the room right up the stairs, the contemporary christian music in the room on the left, the classical music in the room on the right, the elevator music downstairs, whoever's music in the kitchen, michael card in the back room, the punk/ pop music in the bedroom in the back, and the mostly flawed tunes coming from the out-of-tune piano in the dining room. No one in my family can play an instrument especially well, but we all can sing surprisingly well- and that adds to the music filling our house.

It wasn't until I was around thirteen or fourteen when I realized that I associate color with music- each song has a color, or colors, that I associate with. Not synethstesia per se, but something close. The Bruch Concerto is a velvet red, Iron and Wine's Upward Over the Mountain is a pale blue, Eliott Smith's Angel in the Snow a Paleish Green. And I'm not the only one to do this kind of seeing/ listening. James McNeil Whistler (the one who painted Whistler's mother), painted a series of portraits and landscapes with the titles merging musical terms and colors. Genius. I'm going to the Frick in NYC on the 9th to see some of his work.

Words more could be written about music, as any other subject. Yet I am off to Rochester now. I'll be back on Sunday. goodbye.