You can choose to listen to this blogpost. The snippet which I talk about is at the end of this blogpost.

Today, I’m sharing a small audio snippet of a music experiment. For this experiment, I used a recording of birdsong layered with an excerpt from Bach’s small prelude in F which I recorded on the Van Dam Pipe Organ. I quite liked the ensuing effect which makes it seem as if the Pipe Organ is outdoors, with the faint hum of traffic in the background ( wooded areas in the Netherlands are never really all that far from traffic).

On one of my recorded practice sessions, there was a meeting going on in church while I was playing the organ. I found the murmur of voices in the background to be an interesting effect, but it’s not something I would share as the conversation is decipherable. I do like this impression from the recording where we become conscious of the world in which the music is taking place. Perhaps a recording in a market space would be interesting to layer under or on top of a piece. I shall have to venture out on a market day to see what I can capture.

I tried to explain to my organ teacher how when I am writing, I am thinking about more things than words. I am thinking of sound and light, of images and movement and how I have been thinking of composing something that will reflect the world I see and hear in my head. I’m not very good at talking spontaneously about my work, so it came out a bit garbled. But I do want to try and see if I can create something that reflects the sound tapestry of the world I’m currently working on.

On King’s Day, we attended a concert given by my organ teacher. These organ concerts were launched two years ago with the intention of generating funds for the upkeep of the monumental Van Dam organ. Seated in the church, I found myself thinking of the birds, of cathedrals, of sound, of the ways in which we move through time, and through the world.

Sometime ago, I had this brief conversation with my son where we talked about FOMO (fear of missing out) which seems like a spirit that haunts this age. As if we will miss out on something if we are not perpetually visible online or present at gatherings or in chats. To not be in motion or to not be seen seems to bring about a kind of restless anxiety.

I thought about this more deeply and came to the conclusion that there is no need to rush, no need for this anxiety. Even when having a cancer diagnosis means there is no guarantee of how long or short life might be, there’s no need to rush anything. I thought to myself: it’s the same for everyone actually. Just that people with a life-threatening diagnosis experience this awareness more keenly than people who don’t have one.

Perhaps one of the most valuable things I have learned from the work I do is the importance of intention and intentionality. It makes a huge difference in how I step out to meet life. I think of what appointments I make and why I choose to make them.

I suppose this is also why I am enjoying Bach so much. There is a lot of intention and thought in Bach’s work and every note feels like it has a purpose. It’s not just there to be pretty, it’s been set with intention. The challenge for the musician becomes: how do I interpret and bring out that intention.

It’s like life. We can choose how we want to live it. We can choose to retreat, to focus only on ourselves, but we can choose to step out intentionally. We can choose not to close our eyes to what’s going on. We can choose to join our voices and our strength. We can choose to advocate for a better world, for better circumstances, for each of us to be and to do better.

On that note, I’m leaving this small bit of audio from my experimentation of mixing Bach on the pipe organ with birdsong from the park in our neighbourhood. I hope you enjoy listening to it. Until next time, blessings and peace and Maraming Salamat for dropping by.

Excerpt from Bach’s small prelude in F with birdsong