Once I was really thinking about the “making of music”, and pondering how one develops that sense of inner musical connectivity, many examples from my own experience came to mind.
One of them is the song Land of Make Believe by Chuck Mangione, title track of the very first record album that I ever purchased, back in high school. Man oh man, did I love that recording!
I hadn’t listened to it in probably twenty years, maybe even thirty, but hearing it the other day I discovered it still has the same tremendous effect on me as it ever did. There’s something about it; it simply makes me happy…and I’m finally beginning to suspect the reason why.
When (if) you listen to this recording, go ahead and enjoy Esther Satterfield’s beautiful voice and the clever and upbeat lyrics, but — please! — do me a favor and really tune in to the rhythm section; I mean, talk about blended and bonded! They are so tight it’s incredible, especially the drums and electric bass. There’s a sense of forward propulsion that’s relentless yet so light it’s almost effervescent!
I’ve listened to it a number of times over the past week or so, and today I had an “aha” moment. You see, often I’ll play a piece of music for someone because I want to share the incredible joy it gives me, only to have the other person say it’s “nice” or something similar. This has puzzled me for years, as I ask myself — how can they not feel it?
Well, I remembered what I wrote a few days ago, about learning to extend my “antennae” and feel the music from another musician’s perspective; from their center. And I realize that’s what happening as I listen to a recording like this: I’m feeling it as if I was part of that amazing rhythm section, intensely bonded in the now moment, in the groove, making music together.
A precious, itty-bitty glimpse of oneness is what it is!
