The Word - Somthin' a tad abstract to think about

[Cobalt Katze]

It was the first raindrop splashing in slow motion as the sky turned an olive green. The droplet made a sound, and the sound formed a pitch. The pitch grew and evolved and sought more pitches. And so the rain began to fall, drop by drop, pitch by pitch, until it created a groove. The clouds became jealous of the rain's playful plunking and so they began to punctuate the musical droplets by tossing lightning back and forth. Heavy crashes of thunder joined the rain as it syncopated with the rhythmic vibes of the droplets. But the rain would not be outdone! It began to speed up, falling heavy and thick, a flurry of notes onto the ground of white and black against that olive green sky. The lightning crashed down and began to ride from cloud to cloud, almost dancing between each white drum. The rain then came in short spurts, confusing the people below. But the lightning joined right in, matching the rain's seemingly unpredictable pattern. They raged on for another minute or so before the lightning hit its last climactic cymbal. Afterwards, the rain got lighter and lighter, fading away slowly. A pause, applause, and the two musicians nodded their heads, smiling as they shook each other's hands, high on the simple pleasure of the Word.

It was a child sitting in his father's studio. A piano was laid out before him, microphone positioned at a typical toddler's height. The hands came down in a mess of notes, but it was still music. The vocals were rudimentary and nonsensical, but it was still music. "Finger hands!" the child screamed on pitch like any rock star of his time. "I wanna go upstairs and hear my other voice!" the child said after finishing the recording session. Perhaps the same thing would be heard in a smoke-filled downtown studio, but without the pure ignorant innocence. Little did the child know that despite his incoherent cluster chords, what he in fact was recording was the Word. And that an older version of this child would listen back on the Word, years from then, and find inspiration.

The Word is music. Perhaps it isn't simply music, but the kind of music that seeps from the unconscious pores of creativity. It happens at a jam session with other musicians. It happens as a child, creating sounds with the pots and pans, one's own voice, or screaming for a bottle of milk. It happens in the privacy of one's room, letting a stream of musical ideas flow onto a piece of paper. It happens in nature, in technology, with hundreds of people, or one person singing in the shower. It happens all at once, a million times over in everyone's ears. But then the creation of the Word becomes different from receiving the Word and responding to the Word. What happens to music after it is created? It is lost forever, a moment in time that is there one second and gone the next. And so the Word becomes something that can enter the physical realm for a brief moment and leave an impression. It can then disappear forever knowing that there is at the very least one person that can offer remembrance to its brief life, and seek him out again.

[Tobias]

cobbes, i really liked this. I find music to be essential in life, and your right in the saying that it can be here in a brief moment, and leave the next, yet leave an impression forever.

[shadokastur]

That was very inspiring in itself, Cobbi.
I can't remember who said this quote but it's one that's always 'struck a chord' with me.
(pardon the unintentional pun):


"Music isn't just something you hear or feel it's a way of life."



Shadokastur :elephant:

[Tobias]

thats a good music quote.

i also got a music quote from the game revolution X:

Music is a weapon

dunno if it helps, or in any ways relates to the story, but its a music quote

[Sperrit]

One day I gotta hear that recording. That would be cool.
Nice story, man. Very cool.

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