So this writing about music as it happens thing is now kind of its own thing away from the word challenges.
I played “Spirits Song” a few times just to get it all down as I’m a bit drained this morning.
I think I captured an image of the song and at the same time said very little about it and I’m fine with that. Kind of makes the writing feel as though I was capturing an impression.
“Spirits Song” is from Peter Miller’s soundtrack for Spirits of the Air, Gremlins of the Clouds.
I hope you enjoy.
A lonely harmonica, stretching out its lament upon some sort of sound in a hollow object, giving a dry bleakness. Harmonica drops out, the secondary sound shifts to something resembling a vocals, though remaining dry and bleak.
Vocals spaced, slightly echoing. Echo in, keep words clear and precise. Specific, careful, considered. Some sort of release. Possibly detached from the landscape.
A shift around into something a little more hopeful. Careful guitar. Single notes strike out playing a brief soliloquy among the barren landscape. The harmonica comes back in, finding something to pair up with, but this meeting is only brief and it disappears before it can truly be a meeting.
Something else rises up and the guitar goes. A melody of solitude that the harmonica tries once more to pair up with, though this time it seems to follow more than it does meet. An inevitable weight descends upon the sound.
The harmonica disappears, the second sound lowers itself and also disappears and the vocals return. Still considered. The dry landscape that had shifted only slightly around since the beginning now allows more air through. A sort of breeze picks up, adding a different view to the song. It still remains bleak and dry, though perhaps somewhere in there there now sits some sort of moment of hope.
As before the vocals remain not of the setting, though perhaps they are. They flicker in, remain careful and considered; precise, clear, announcing some sort of action now able to commence. Once done so they then disappear from the song.
Something resembling an organ now takes over and signifies a sort of closing. The landscape keeps the breeze, keeps the dryness and allows itself to become more clearly akin to string playing themselves out. Here the two elements dance a sorrowful dance, though the hope remains in there, somewhere. Then the song briefly draws out its close on one definitive moment.