So Mark Hollis died and time passes on by and things are going on beyond for far longer than the clouds that drift on through the endless expanse of sky that seems to hang above us all.

It was the greatest of birthday presents; not the death, but the memory and the influence.

I listen to his music now as I write, for it means something greater than just a small, small, token gesture.

Those sounds that are penetrating my ears are just wonderfully composed. Free and stretching and expansive and more atmosphere than most artists can ever hope to achieve.

I have to think about what I’m listening to as it leads me on a journey, but really I need to just let it lead me on and give up to its sound, for there is an experience to be had. There is an image. A vast plain that stretches across and hard clouds among a strong blue sky. There is a wind that blows and I am journeying through the field at a fast pace.

There is a world and a beat and there is some sort of tension there, but there is also a feeling of peace. There is something more palpable than what one could ever hope to palp, or so they say.

A tenderness exposes itself in the space between the notes and I am merely here and I am waiting and I am led along by what I am hearing. There is a form of rage, but it is not one of anger. It is a sound that is granting itself a form in which it can be experienced.

That is what is coming out of my fingers, at least. To be honest I don’t really know how to describe what it is that I am hearing other than in terms that give it a certain form of colour, but even then that may not be enough to say what it is and is not. It merely describes what it is in one form, as it, as well as so much other music out there has more than one facet and there is plenty of it out there that cannot merely be described with words.

Kind of a weird thing to say, I guess, but it is a way that can only be described through nonverbal (and possibly) non-visual expression. The way that some of this music could be described is best in the the form of experience, I guess.

But then again, there is an understanding that could very well be one that is personal to every person and thus one that could never be expressed due to the possibility that it is something that is purely individual rather than something shared.

Music is, after all, something that many of us get something out of in a very personal manner. It’s part of what makes it such a core component of many lives out there.

Well, that and music is an amazing thing.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:32:91

This has given me some ideas, but I really need to start making a spreadsheet of all the things that I’d like to write.

Other than that, this is kind of okay. Kind of.
I was thinking too much.

Written at work.