I Am Not A Christian

It's true, I'm not at all Christian. It just isn't for me. Despite being raised in a society where Christianity was the main faith; being forced to say grace before every meal at my local primary school and occasionally being forced to trudge to the nearest church for Easter or on one occasion, a mock christening, did not make me an avid young follower. But to this day I feel guilty when I sit in a church. I feel like a gargantuan fraud, like the devil in disguise. I don't know what it is but churches simply make me deathly uncomfortable, the same cannot be said about other places of worship for other religions. Bizarrely enough this overwhelming feeling of discomfort and being judged for not bending my knee to the whim of the bible is only present when I find myself in a newer church. In old churches I feel small and ever so insignificant, a welcome reprieve from the usual. However I am much more likely to be struck by the architecture of these ancient buildings than anything else. I can safely say I have never entered a church (even the grandest) and felt a heavenly presence. You may see me stop and gaze upwards, but my head is only filled with admiration for those who built such a magnificent place. When I wrote this piece originally I was sitting within a church in South Woodford in London. And yes I was uncomfortable and unsettled, but more because of the incredibly rigid church, my usual guilt trip was oddly absent.

I was awestruck, not by the church, not by a godly present. No. The choir, It was an incredible sound. Now choral music will never particularly be to my taste. But I adore harmony, voices intertwining and creating beautiful aural art. There is no better place to hear that than a church. The ethereal sounds that a group of talented singers can make is second to none. So I sat there, in the front most pew, listening to a choir practise; unable to carry a tune in a reinforced titanium bucket myself. But utterly absorbed by the sound. I listened to them sing in Latin whilst above all I head a single distinctive rich tenor voice guide those who were unsure of where to go. His sister stood before the choir, conducting like a madwoman. Creating something quite spectacular. Every member a part of a private little music bubble, not realising the clear, swelling beauty of their creation and its mind blowing effect. I was envious of every voice, but madly in love with the sound.

Blasphemous as it may be to say. There was no god there that day, nor any other day I've found myself in a church. There was only musical magic, from the organ to the choir. I am not a Christian, I never will be. But I wouldn't hesitate to attend a midnight mass or an evensong to listen to earthly people create those unearthly sounds.
There is no God in church.
Only music.

A Song For The Rest Of My Life.

If I had to go the rest of my life only listening to a single song; I wouldn't choose Michael Jackson, nor would I choose Marilyn Manson (much to the surprise of many). No I wouldn't choose any of those. I would choose ‘The kids from yesterday’ by My Chemical Romance. I couldn't choose any other song. It’s an anthem. At least to me it is. Even just the opening notes catapult you to the end of … somewhere. Gifting you images of a dusty desert road, a crisp, clear blue sky and an equally dusty car speeding towards a horizon of nothing. There is a sense of leaving the world behind, of moving on. The lyrics tell you to ‘hold on tight and don’t look back’. This dusty road before you can lead to wherever you want it to; you can leave everything behind if you like. To me, this is a song about growing up, moving on and not being afraid to be yourself.

Hearing this song for the first time made me stop, I couldn't do anything else. It stunned me and took me to that dusty road for the first time. This song, nestled at the back of the album danger days, filled with stories of the true lives of the fabulous kill joys, caught me off guard; Refuelling my love for music and leaving a permanent stamp on my mind. It is a song that will forever have a place in my heart and on my playlists. And without a second thought is the song I would happily listen to for the rest of my life.

The Weekly News Blues

Ahh the weekly news, you love it. Don't you? Isn't it great that you can learn all about the woes and worries of the world, even faster than you used to be able to ? Doesn't that prospect just fill you with joy ? yes, the news, our way of finding out just how miserable the rest of the world is compared to you. I guess its supposed to make you feel better about yourself or possibly your situation. Depending on who you are of course. If you're the person or group that the news has decided to focus on this week then chances are you probably aren't so happy. Its so rare to hear good news now, sometimes we forget that good news even occurs. reading the news can leave you somewhat disenchanted with the world we live in, when even now, with all our wealth and technology; there are still people without running water.

 

Now I'm not saying that good news is never reported, it is, it's just done ever so quietly. You hear about bankrupt celebrities and faulty iPhones but you don't here about how India have just managed to get a satellite into Mars' orbit or that the USA and China have recently pledged to try and reduce CO2 emissions. I also believe there was a rather bizarre story about an operation on a fish to remove a rather large brain tumour that it had. But no, the news has a habit of fear mongering, they convince us that everyone from the 80's are paedophiles and that the world could possibly end next week, but only if we read the news.

 

Now I managed to get by with listening to the news too much, I rarely pay attention to stuff. But I'm not clueless, I still hear about the news, I just tend not to listen unless its hugely important. 

News is great and all, but its true what is said, sometimes no news is good news. 

 

A Change Of Heart

Classical music...

Prissy, snobby? Maybe… That's what I used to think anyway. Classical music was always inaccessible to me, but then, I was never particularly interested. But a recent (and rather fantastic) trip to London gave me reason to look a little deeper.

Now, I'd never been to the Albert Hall (or should I maybe give its full title? The Royal Albert Hall). But it's safe to say that the towering dome, scrawled with Latin and effigies of times long since past, left me awestruck. Then suddenly. I was terrified. Here I was queuing for a promenade, a musical tradition that stretches back to 1895! And Me, standing in line as tiny and insignificant as a grain of uncooked rice, I know nothing!

As I panic away to myself, two fantastic musicians (albeit dear friends) discuss the brilliance of Bach, and Shostakovich's symphonies. All the while I stand and wondered what in Gods name I’m getting myself into. I feel like a very small fish, in a very, very, large pond filled with grandeur, and instruments.

After paying for a ticket (surprisingly only £5) my friends informed me that the conductor and his orchestra are world renowned. A man, who in my classical music infancy, I had yet to hear of or learn about, Daniel Barenboim. Now those of you who are seasoned classical music fans may gasp in pure horror at my lack of knowledge. But admittedly that concert shot me into the universe of that gorgeous genre of music that is classical music. And, although I am still learning, I am sure that I will never forget that shiver that accompanied swell of Ravel's Bolero as it all came crashing together in one fantastic finale, neither will I forget how the sounds reverberated through me, chasing themselves around the domed ceiling before following me into my sleep to become the soundtrack for that nights dream.

It's safe to say that classical music has grown on me since then, it’s an ever expanding universe full of subtlety and beauty. One, I personally, can't wait to become better acquainted with. The more I learn, the more I want to learn, it has rekindled my love for my poor, slightly neglected piano, and made me slightly guilty for being so close minded about the world of classical music.

My dearest classical genre, can you ever forgive me?

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