Why become a musician?

Why become a musician? Or anything else for that matter?

My father always wanted me to get a steady job; he often mentioned banking as a suitable career because of the security it offered. His own path had led him into an unexpected life in the military via the second world war, going back in after de-mob when he discovered teaching wasn't for him. The stable peace of the cold war made for safe and secure employment.

Today I wouldn't associate safety and security with either of those fields. But they obviously appeal to some for all kinds of reasons. The important thing is to follow your heart. I was told the following at a party last night:

Confucius said "find a job you love and you'll never do a day's work in your life".

Now doesn't that sound like good advice?

Synaesthesia and other holiday reading

Once in a blue moon I buy a copy of New scientist. It's good for camping: too small to catch the wind and with pages that are stapled together. I bought one at the station before boarding a train for the coast last weekend. I like to feel I know what's going on in the world of science and I get the gist of most of the articles (although the one on string theory felt like wading into quicksand). There's usually at least something interesting about sound. Fellow blogger Cogitator drew my attention to a NS item about echo location in humans in response to my blindfold post last month.

In the issue dated 30th May there were three articles directly relating to sound. The first to catch my eye was a snippet: 'Music eases baby pain'. Apparently it reduces the impact of minor invasive procedures. What sort of music isn't specified but presumably not the Dead Kennedys.

A slightly longer article 'Play together to stay together' suggests that music developed in order to increase cohesion in social groups. Apparently musicians are better at forming attachments to others. This surprised me as I have met many misanthropic musicians although I have not catalogued the encounters scientifically.

Synaesthesia is a condition in which the afflicted (or blessed) makes strong associations between one sense and another. They may taste shapes or numbers or else hear words or sounds in colour. The BBC has touched on this subject recently and, if you're curious, New Scientist was reviewing the book Wednesday is Blue: Discovering the brain of Synaesthesia by Cytowic and Eagleman (MIT Press). According to the article, evolution selected for the condition because it increases creativity. Apparently the condition is more common amongst artists and musicians.

Sensibly I also took time out to enjoy the North Norfolk coast.

Playing in a space with no electricity

Do you enjoy listening or performing in unusual venues? I've always been drawn to them. They bring their own challenges of course. Access, space, light and power for a start. And then acoustics and audience sight lines. A few Fridays ago I played in a mud building based on an Iron Age round house, deep in the Norfolk countryside. And when I say deep I'm not just using a cliché; the mud promised to be deep and sticky and it didn't disappoint. And, usually for a venue, there is no outside light. So, a dark, muddy access. But the space inside is lovely with a wood burning stove that throws out a good heat. And there is no electricity – just candle light – and I just love that. The acoustic is warm and only slightly reverberant on account of wooden dance floor. The musicians stand on the stone flags by the wood burning stove and, while the dancers learn the steps for the next dance, they attend to the mulled wine.

So that just leaves sight lines. I feel I've used the word 'unusual' a little often but, except for a pit band at the theatre, how often are the musicians placed at a level below the dance floor? On this occasion the audience is there to dance, not to watch the band. Circle dancing to be precise. And I just love playing for dancers, too.