Thursday, May 15, 2014
What comes next?
If the music seems to be a labyrinth of confusion, a maze of indirection, a tangle of illogic -- well, I suppose that is because it is. This is what happens when it snows in May, when memories of May include (to borrow a line from Charles Dickens) the best of times and the worst of times, when the month of May seems to be a literal castle of indolence. (That bit of allusion was borrowed from James Thomson, a Scottish poet; it seems only fair to balance an Englishman with a Scot, does it not?) These songs, along with another two or three seemingly dissimulated pieces entered my mind a few evenings ago when mixed with Southern Comfort, so I listened to them each a number of times. There should be a pattern to them -- a common bond -- but, if there is, I cannot find it. It seemed quite reasonable, therefore, for me to toss into this cocktail of music a photograph which might also seem purposeless, perplexing, pointless. A man and a dog, resting, it would seem, on a hallway floor. So, who are they, why are they there, what are they awaiting, what comes next? That is for me to know (actually, "to contemplate" would be a more accurate phrase to use) and for you to speculate, if you so choose. Hallways are like roads and rivers. They lead to somewhere, usually to nowhere of significance on a personal level, but sometimes the journey along them proves to offer a glimpse into another world -- into another reality -- into another time.