Music

Hello Again

/ howardshapiro / 4 Comments

We were in New York a few weeks ago.  Saw two shows and went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art squeezing into two exhibits: Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty and Van Gogh’s Cypresses. The exhibits and the shows were radically different: Parade – about the Leo Frank lynching somewhere outside of Atlanta in 1915 and A Beautiful Noise – the story and music of Neil Diamond from Sweet Caroline to Coming to America. We can talk about Parade in a different post.

Eileen and I were captured by A Beautiful Noise; loved the music; you could sing it; loved the glitter and the sequins; felt so good, so good, so good. Things I did not know: unlike many contemporary actors and performers, Neil Diamond never changed his name. He was born Neil Diamond and still is. He didn’t pick up the guitar till he was 16. Many of his songs are deeply personal mirroring different stages of his life. And so much of it is about acceptance and loneliness. I hear his music differently now: self-reflective and even soul searching. You got to get past the façade of bright lights and shiny costumes. Just like when you love someone you love not only their persona but also the person they are within, with all the beauty marks and all the flaws, with all the strengths and weaknesses. You see, I am not a music critic, and I am not a psychoanalyst. “I am I said, to no one there and no one heard at all, not even the chair…” We all want to be heard, noticed, felt that this one life we have is impactful.

Some of us sing; some of us tell stories; some of us write; some of us nurture; some of us teach; some of us provide; some of us heal; some of us listen, some of us create; some of us grow things; some of us paint. And some of us struggle and can’t find the road back. It might be ridiculous or ludicrous to pair the two but the Van Gogh exhibit at the Met wants “in” to these words. The image at the top of this is Van Gogh’s “Country Road in Provence by Night”. He was obsessed with these cypress trees. He calls them “flame like” and even writes, “no one has yet done them as I see them.” Maybe it’s the loneliness theme. I often wondered do you have to be lonely or besieged to be creative. Is suffering the secret ingredient in the paint on the palate?

The painting isn’t as famous or as intense as Starry Nights, but it speaks to me about the life we have been given and the road we all are invited to take – one that winds through and by the trees. There are probably many paths, and they change as we grow, age, mature, become. The challenge is to recognize it, stay on it, celebrate it, affirm it, walk it with as much joy as we can muster no matter what God/Life/Chance/Luck bring us. Van Gogh died of suicide. Neal Diamond has Parkinson’s. What do we really know?

Like a Bridge

/ howardshapiro / 11 Comments

I do a lot of walking (the more impressive term is “hiking”) here in NC. When I am with people, we talk. We talk about the trails; we talk about the things we are seeing; we talk about our destination; we talk about other people (don’t judge); politics; health; movies; music; what’s streaming; religion; how much longer; you name it. But when I walk alone I put in my earbuds and either an audio book accompanies me or a podcast or music I have downloaded from somewhere.

Today I am listening to a podcast recommended by a friend who shares my love for Leonard Cohen and who is taking a chance that I like Paul Simon. (I do.) Malcolm Gladwell is interviewing Paul Simon on his career, his music, his creative genius, his work ethic, his origin story, his “mentors”. It is called, “Miracle and Wonder: Conversations with Paul Simon.” It is riveting. (I found it on Audible.) It is a good thing that I am pretty much alone on these wooded paths, because I am listening, walking, singing. Like in the shower – no one around – no inhibitions.

I learned so much about the songs, about the arc of Simon’s career, about his creative process, music of his youth, musicians he collaborated with, and musical traditions he traveled the world to learn from. Way back when I was still living in Springfield, New Jersey, I was so captivated by Sounds of Silence that I used it as a basis for a sermon. There is poetry in the lyrics: “Hello darkness my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again because a vision softly creeping …” I have the sermon in a cardboard box filled with blue 5X7 cards with my words typed in black ribboned ink on a baby blue Smith Corona electric. I can’t replicate my original message right now, but in this fractured America we are living through I hear the words of prophet written on the subway walls … people talking without speaking, people hearing without listening…

And I wonder at the sanity of it all. As I listened to the podcast I was sure that I was going to use the words of a different classic of Simon and Garfunkel to jump off from for this blog. “When you’re weary feeling small … ” But words often take you to places you do not recognize and unless you are disciplined you can wind up in a different key. But one thing is clear to me. We need a bridge in this country we call home; we need to find ways we can talk with each other and move forward together. This stalemate in government and this privilege of sitting inside the Washington beltway and ignoring the issues of gun control and women’s rights, a planet that keeps heating and the rising prices of silence – in the words of the prophet – like a cancer grows.

In Florida there is a primary coming up. I’m waiting for my ballot to be forwarded so I can vote for candidates who know how to build bridges.