Soundtrack
Part Two
“Now close your eyes,
look into your hand
What do you see?
Life is our song to
give and learn to take
Time will not wait
Oh won’t you please
come dance
While the song’s
still playing
Won't be long till
the silence falls”
(It’s Not A Song, Amy Grant 1985)
My love for
both Amy Grant and her music is my longest relationship with any woman outside
of my family. She has been part of my life since I first heard her sing “Giggle” back in 1977. For a few years,
my appreciation of her sound evolved along with her style and presentation.
When she released “Age to Age” in
1980, I fell completely and unconditionally in love with the entire package. It
was the meaning that spoke most to me. It has been over forty years and I still
sense every heartbeat. Everything changed when I discovered Amy. Every project
she manifested seemed to flow in parallel with my life at the time. It was like
she played in the under, a cornerstone of Christian ideals and New Age ecumenicalism.
To this day she continues to release new music, music which still plays like it
is the soundtrack to my life. I find something in every lyric, in all the
phraseology, in the musical bed that plays underneath my chaos. I have never
met her and I probably never will. If the occasion just so happened, I would
really only have “Thank You” to say. Words could not express. She is tied into
my history. Sometimes, she was my history. Every song, and I do mean every
song, has been imprinted in my heart and my soul. I know every word. The three
times I have seen her in concert were Canadian tour dates. I have almost every
song she ever recorded on CD or MP3. I have her book “Mosaic.” I even have a gem
mint copy of her on the cover of Marvel Comic’s Doctor Strange issue 15. I actually own a hard copy of all her
videos. I have two certified autographs and the 1994 poster of House of Love. For years, I always knew
she was more for me than against me. It’s not been easy for her to be pro-LGBTQ.
She encouraged me to think it would all be okay if we just come “out in the
open.” It’s not just that she speaks to
me, it seems that she sings to me.
“For the sake of
never making waves
I kept my secrets to
myself
And no one ever
really knew the
Darker shadows of my
heart
But I will be a
witness
That there’s nothing
in me dark enough
The power of
forgiveness
Cannot rescue from
the deep”
(Out in the Open, Amy Grant 2003)
It was my
first day of music class, back in grade 6. Without warning, we were forced to
pick the musical instrument we would be playing, they told us, for the rest of
our lives. This was the string section. The violin was too classy for me. The
viola is too squeaky. The cello had already been chosen by my sister. So I
stood beside a grandfather bass, ready to learn how to play it. One of the
Smothers Brothers stood with his. I had never really given much thought to
playing anything. I took piano lessons for a year when I was even younger but they
never took. From Elementary school, all the way to High School graduation, I
held my trusty friend. Sometimes I found it easier to hide behind it. I also
took voice lessons for a few years during this time. Needless to say, I have an
extensive background in music theory and music history. The same class that
trained me on bass, also introduced me to Classical music. At first it seemed so
foreign, almost alien to me. Where the hell were all the words? It turned out
to be like eating a Tootsie Pop. You lick and lick and lick until you get to
the centre. The reward is in the flavour.
Over time I
fell in love with Classical music. I now hold a greater passion for it. It is
the main genre I choose to listen to on the radio, especially when I am driving
in heavy traffic. It soothes this savage beast. I also took trumpet and
saxophone while attending Strathroy District Collegiate Institute, although for
much shorter amounts of time. I wanted to play the bass. I wanted to listen to
anything like it. It was Mozart who first struck gold. His Symphony
No. 40 in G minor captured me the moment I heard it. The Piano Concerto 21, also by Amadeus,
cemented my appreciation and loyalty to the brand. Classical music had become
like an otherland for me. I can escape there, into aesthetic sounds and
pleasant ideas. Again, it soothes this savage beast. Whether Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Holst’s The Planets or even Beethoven, Handel,
Brahms and Bach, Classical music is an agreeable music bed for a life well
lived. If you’re looking for a soundtrack for solace and comfort and ease, turn
on 96.3, The New Classical FM out of Toronto ,
Canada
“Today I found myself
After searching all
these years
And the man that I
saw
He wasn’t at all who
I thought he’d be
I was lost when you
found me here
And I was broken
beyond repair
Then you came along
And you sang your
song over me”
I don’t
listen to popular music, Country music or even Alternative music. I get samples
here and there from other people’s choices but I don’t seek out any other form
of music besides Gospel and Classical. I listen to Christian music. When I need
more than just Mozart, I turn to Amy Grant, The Afters, Michael English and
Plumb. Bands like Third Day, Sanctus Real and even Diamond Rio only add to the
spiritual mix that finds me wanting. Sometimes it can seem as if the very voice
of God is reaching out to touch me through these songs. It’s not some message
of salvation or a moral treatise that draws my attention. It’s the feeling I
get when I hear people sing about God’s love and faithfulness. They can send me
to reeling. At one point, many years ago, it was John Denver that held me
captive. In the late 1980s, it was Country music that soothed this weary soul. Ever
since the death of my first partner in 1995, other Christian artists beside Amy
have filtered into my world and my mind and my being. I am lost inside each
one, always wishing that God really worked that way. Always hoping the words
and the melody could bring me closer to the peace that passes all
understanding. In the 1970s and early 1980s, my mother listened to Christian artists
like Evie Karllson and Keith Green. I discovered Petra along the way and the foundation for my
current focus was laid in those notes of gold. I have to admit, sometimes hearing
folks go on and on about worshipping “The Lord” can seem rather repugnant to
me. There are times when hearing about Jesus’ love for me does not ring true.
Still, always lying beneath it all is the message of acceptance and
forgiveness. I feel hope when I tune into the power. Christian music has become
like a soundtrack to my spirituality. It is a door to the other side of living.
It lies there like a spirit would.
“So I say
Thank you for the
music, the songs I’m singing
Thanks for all the
joy they’re bringing
Who can live without
it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a
dance what are we?
So I say thank you
for the music
For giving it to me”
(Thank You for the Music, Abba 1977)
The truth
is there are not many forms of music I don’t at least appreciate. I like
Incubus as much as I like Matthew West. Abba and One Republic
“A musical bed is a songwriting-composition term used in music
production. A musical bed consists of the bottom layers of tracks consisting of
bass, drums, the main harmonic progression with chordal instruments like
guitars or keyboards, and other musical effects, usually created by a music
producer. The musical bed is then given to an artist to compose the melody and
lyrics on top. The musical bed is like the foundation of a song and its creator
receives writing credit and royalties, the finished song cannot be licensed
without permission from all who created the song.”
Photos
Sources
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