Musings

Can Classical music survive an industrialized, technology-based society?

Religion and spirituality have always been large interests of mine. I've always felt something... divine around me and in my life. I've never belonged to any one particular religion although I've read about many and have (almost) always looked upon different sorts of religions with a great deal of curiosity and respect.

In the first part of my discussion I began to discuss the essential question, "What is Music?". Where is the line that distinguishes what is music and what is just noise? But the question is much broader than that. In the world of music there are two distinct entities; Western music and what I will refer to as World music. The how and where music is produced could also have an influence on what many people think is music and what isn't.

In a recent blog, I poured out my heart in the form of my philosophy of music. Now I have decided that I must address the controversial question "What is Music?".

It's about that time of year when the sun begins to shine and the temperatures begin to climb. And actually, it's still quite chilly out, but after being cooped up by and accustomed to the frosty days of winter, anything abovet th freezing point feels good.

If I had the opportunity to invite someone to accompany me on a lengthy road trip, I would invite DeAnna, my birthmother. I want to talk to her face to face, not just through letters or information filtered through the adoption agency. I want to know what it was like to be pregnant and scared and to make an adoption plan. I want her to know what it was like for me.

Bright eyed, slightly scruffy in pajama pants, ragged jeans and flip flops, no concept of the juggernaut that lies before them, standing near mommy or daddy or grandma or grandpa as the speaker presents. Oh the joys of the college orientation experiance. Some of the faces area little worn, the parents knowing the pain of forking over 14K to get little Susy or Timmy in school. Oh how they pray that they wo't join the stoners who sit near the courtyard in hemp fabric with loads of beads or join up with the Aryan Nation  (a vile group yet protected under the joyous armor of Free Speach). The students themselves just listen intently, the nervousness in the air heavy in the room. However, in one...perhaps two....maybe even three...there is a calm look.