From the Head - March 1 2024

 

From the Head

March 1 2024

The human voice,

unaccompanied

unembellished.

A cappella;

leaning in

shoulder to shoulder

around a single microphone.

The harmonies and overtones

as complementary voices

weave sweetly in and out;

converge

into one magnificent sound,

then sing their highs and lows

and yearning minor notes

before converging again.

An ethereal sound

that has the purity

of something in-and-of-itself.

I close my eyes

and let the music fill me.

And even though I can't sing,

feel the song

form in my throat

as if it had been there all along

just waiting to get out.

Restraint is the key.

How they hold back

until the last few lines,

building tension

until giving vent

in a final ecstatic release,

leaving them emptied out.

And how the air

still as held breath

sustains that last round note,

a disembodied voice

with a life of its own.

The audience is rapt,

straining to listen

until only silence remains.

Not a sound

for a few entranced beats

before we rise up from our chairs,

shouting and clapping

and stamping our feet.

The singers

leaving us filled,

while emptying themselves

from the heart as well as the head.

A link from an article I was reading took me to YouTube where this song caught my eye; first in line in my recent history queue. It had been a while since I was on the site, so I decided to listen again.

I love a cappella music. Acoustic music in general. And, as an atheist, have to admit that religion has it all over us when it comes to music: disbelief, it seems, is not conducive to either devotion or high emotion!

This poem was an attempt to capture how hearing this felt.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swOLCLrqBn8