I embarrassed myself in front of my boss today. I didn't mean to: it just slipped out.
"Are you wanting to get off home?" he asked, glancing at the clock. We were mid-discussion and it was already twenty-five to six.
"No it's okay," I said, glumly, "I actually don't have anybody to go home to."
"Aw Matt!" he exclaimed, as though I'd said something wrong. I was suddenly red-faced.
"Gosh," I said quickly, "I didn't mean it to come out in so melancholy a way!"
It had though! It had been melancholy; I'm really trying to watch out for that. Melancholy leads to sad and sad leads to depressed and depressed leads to sick. For all its rain-washed romance, melancholy is the path to the dark side.
So, I have really enjoyed arranging Can You Feel the Love Tonight? tonight. It's a great tune and I think the choir will enjoy singing it. Although the men won't thank me for giving them oohs and aahs again; I just don't think it can be helped.
It's nice to sit down at the piano and work out something that you can do really well. It fends off that melancholy streak. What's more, it's the kind of thing that doesn't thrive in a world of interruption but loves a world of silence. I still remember having to sandwich the headphones tightly to my ears to drown out the TV, when I was arranging in the next room to the Intrepids.
I like the use of the word kaleidoscope. Do lions use kaleidoscopes? Does it work? Do kaleidoscopes move us? I don't know. Actually, I'm not sure I'm all that bothered.
There's a time for everyone
If they only learn
That the twisting kaleidoscope
Moves us all in turn
It's just a nice rhythmic phrase. Tim Rice does this a lot. A little later he uses the phrase Star-Crossed-Voyager and somehow squeezes it in to four syllables. It doesn't mean anything. And yet it carries a little echo of Romeo and Juliet, a half-a-nod to Mufasa gazing down from the night sky while Simba and Nala fall in love below. It's clever. And it's ever so slightly melancholy.
But I'm not going down that road.
No comments:
Post a Comment