Music was my first love...

Ooooh, the bliss and thrill of finding new music, back in the day when almost everything was a "first"!

Discovering songs and music for the first time as a teenager, when so many (old) songs were completely new and exciting to me, I couldn't believe how others had known them for years and could remain all cool about something that appeared so totally life-changing to me... music that had me reassess and reconsider everything I thought I knew up to that point, music that completely rocked my world...

I must have been about 15 or 16 when I came across Laura Nyro's "Gibsom Street"... I couldn't believe it... it was the first song ever that had me completely thunderstruck. Until then I have had my favorite bands like any other teenager, sometimes because I could identify with what they stood for, sometimes simply because the singer was good looking or whatever else will make you buy an album as a teenager. I had been a fan of Depeche Mode, U2, The Smiths... I was rather enthusiastic about their music - but this was different... this was completely new to me. I had no clue what that song (Gibsom Street) really was about but it's intensity and power touched me in a way I hadn't known before. It opened up a new world to me. Later the songs of artists like Patti Smith, Tim Buckley, Joni Mitchell or Sam Cooke would give me similar "aha moments" at my first discovery of their music. Leonard Cohen, Van Morrison, Nick Drake... Howe Gelb, Jeff Finlin, Vic Chesnutt, Tom Waits, T. Bone Burnett ... aah, so many others along the way, really.

I have experienced a tiny spark of it the other day - a spark just big enough to make me realize how often it doesn't turn into a flame these days.

Is it just me or is it in the nature of things that we do not perceive things and situations as intensively anymore as we grow older... do we "desensitize" over the years? How come we seem to lose that gift of pure, unconditional excitement to a certain degree once we've grown up? It happens less and less that I stumble across some music that really sweeps me off my feet the way it regularly happened in the past. I wonder why that is. Is it because we have already seen everything, heard everything in one way or another? I miss it sometimes. Don't you?

As a teenager, nothing touched me as deeply as music - a song would turn into colors and pictures, into something almost 3D, something tangible, something real. Not so much by what it said in it's lyrics, taking a song literally, but by the atmosphere it created, the images it conjured up. I would find a new artist and the discovery could draw me out of the world for days on end, into some kind of parallel universe where music was all that was real, putting me in a state of bliss and positive excitement, totally immersed in the diverse impressions and perceptions that came with each find.

I remember quite a few of those "epiphany" moments, induced by a song or some music I had never heard before - music that gave me intense sensation, that really clicked with me, that set something in motion... music that inspired me like nothing ever had, at times stimulating my senses to a degree that it almost hurt, but I loved it. A friend suggested the term "audible orgasm" to describe this particular sensation but there's much more to it. It's like falling in love for the first time - absolutely mind-blowing! A feeling so overwhelming, so confusing, yet so exciting... an unconditional willingness to become absorbed. Suddenly nothing's the same.

Music has always been a crucial element in my life. It seems that every song, every new kind of music, every artist I discovered for myself, always found me at a moment when his or her special gift was exactly what I needed, what I might have been looking for without even knowing. Often it came as a missing link, a trigger, a challenge, an insight, an answer. In music I found solace, inspiration, comfort, encouragement... a counterbalance to all the things that might have shaken me at times. There were moments that would have felt impossible to bear without the companionship of certain songs, certain voices... days when everything seemed too much, times of doubt and pain that some unaware songwriter helped me through.

Over the years I have found other sources to draw on. I turn to nature and it's healing energy when I feel at odds with the world. I find inner peace and balance in meditation and yoga, in walking even. Silence is an enormous source of strength for me these days as well (amazingly enough, silence has it's own sweet music)

But there is, and always will be... MUSIC! It's not like it doesn't happen any more. Maybe it's less intense a lot of times... maybe it's true that we've heard too much to find that same old, innocent and unconditional enthusiasm that we experienced when everything was a first for us... but yes, music was my first love. It will always rock my world.

Making plans for the day... and why it's not worth the effort.

There's a German proverb, saying "Erstens kommt es anders, und zweitens als man denkt...", which roughly translates to "Firstly, things happen - secondly, not at all like you expect...". I guess I can fully agree to that today. I am tired like I haven't been in a long time. Kinda perplexed. Then again, too tired to actually question anything anymore. My first impulse would be to just go back to bed once I have worded my speechlessness and vented my discomposure... but, today of all days, the sun is out and I cannot possibly waste the day sleeping.

"Yeah, cut it short then, Lilli", you may think, "what happened? Let's get it over with!"

Okay, here's the nitty-gritty... the past 24 hours in the life of Lilli:

Friday, May 28th. A day off work. I decide to take it easy, get a few errands and chores done, do the dishes, some laundry maybe. The apartment is a mess after my running off for three weekends in a row. But, no hurry, no fuss. I decide to take it easy, having the whole day at my free disposal. Maybe I can even bake a bread later on.

At 4pm I haven't actually accomplished much, stuck with the good intentions and the feeling there is all the time in the world... the wish being father to the thought, haha!

At 4.30pm my doorbell rings. Am I expecting visitors? Not that I know of...

I open the door. Chris. A friend of mine that I haven't seen in a while. Must have been before I went to the desert, March maybe? My first (somewhat subconscious and not very kind) thought is "Shit, this might turn into a bit of a time consumer...". Duh!! Not nice, Lilli... but those of you who know Chris also know what I mean. Don't get me wrong, Chris is a very dear friend, maybe one of my best... but we have to be realistic, right? There's no way making it short with Chris, nothing can stop her once she gains momentum, she's a natural force in her own charming way...

Within the few seconds it takes her to come up the four steps to my door, I try to come up with a new plan. My mind rotates...in vain. So I decide to just keep taking it easy and try have a good time with my friend, then go back to my chores. It's only the afternoon, after all.

"Hola, guapita" she says, "I saw you had the windows open and thought I'd drop in for a moment! I won't hold you up, no worries, a little pressed for time myself, preparing an exhibition, just a flying visit, really".

"Great", I think - "so that is settled", and relax...

At 4.45pm we sit on the pillows in my "desert room", the cups are filled with Karkade tea and the room is bathed in sunlight. "Life is good", I think to myself, "I'll have a lovely time now and then get everything done in the evening, once Chris is gone, perfect!"

We start chatting.

At 5.45 we have hardly covered the "essentials"... the desert, her recent exams, my work situation, her work situation, the banjo, her computer, the building site that her apartment is, the ruin that my house in the country is, my chores (that I yet have to get done...)

We find that we are really hungry.

At 6.45 we make sandwiches and more tea

We continue talking... and talking.

At 7.45 we both find that the sandwiches are really not that satiable and decide to order in.

We call Burak, our favourite Turkish restaurant, and order lamb chops and chicken kebabs.

I drop a vague hint that I really meant to get a few things done... Chris is rather pragmatic about it, she decides that until the food arrives we can as well sit in the bed room and I can fold away the laundry while she'll continue talking.

I bow to the inevitable..

At 8.45 the food finally arrives.

While sitting in the dining room, eating, looking at my oven, I suddenly remember the bread I wanted to bake. I make mention of this and Chris is like "well, naturalmente, we'll bake that bread!!".

At 9.30 we have finished our dinner and start baking the bread. In no time the dough is ready to prove and while Chris is flicking through my CDs, I think "what the damn!" and give two of my rooms a high-speed vacuuming. Yeah, how incredibly burgeois, I know...

After that, we take turns listening to some music, preparing the bread, strumming and picking instruments, searching the internet for layout software and whatnot.

At 11pm the bread is in the oven and needs to bake for 45 minutes.

Chris says, "Jesus! Have I really been here for more than six hours?? I definitely must leave, I got tons of stuff to take care of!" ... I say "Ah, what the hell - no fuss, no hurry"...

At 11.45 the bread is ready.

It's about midnight when Mic calls, saying he just played a gig and is now kind of "hyper hyper" and would we care to join him for a session or some dancing... we decline, saying we're about to call it a day and will go to bed every moment now. Ha!!

I have no idea what happens between midnight and 1.40am, but we end up viewing the Sinai pics on my computer. I'm drop dead tired. We switch from Karkade tea to Sage lemonade. It is disgusting. We still drink it, as there's nothing else in the house.

At 3.45, at the crack of dawn, Chris is finally leaving. The "brief visit" turned into 11 hours. Is it even possible?

Now it's my turn to be way too hyper to go to bed, so I decide to practice some scales, clean up the place some more and try find some calm...

At 4.30 I collapse into bed. The birds are singing and the sun is coming up. My final thought is "well, there's always tomorrow... nothing on the agenda, I'll sleep late, till noon if need be, and then do what needs to be done - no stress, no hurry"...

With that, I fall asleep.

Saturday, May 29th...

At 9.30am I wake to some deafening noise. It takes me a while to realize it's a Batucada... drums and agogos, cowbells and tamborims... a Samba band. But where... and, how? It sure doesn't sound like one of my neighbors playing a tape or whatever. I toss and turn and try go back to sleep but it's impossible, not with this noise - and my driving curiosity...

Once again, I bow to the inevitable.

I get up and more or less "waddle" into the kitchen... plod plod plod... having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

I look out the window and – to my surprise – see my friend Thomas and a tiny fragment of his Samba band (that usually includes a crazy amount of musicians) playing on the street, escorted by two police men. They are all dressed up like The Blues Brothers (the musicians are, not the police men). Not very Brazil, for sure...


(look at me... somebody's real tired here!)

??????? (insert giant question mark in a think bubble over my head)

My mind cannot quite digest this. There was not a drop of alcohol included in yesterday's marathon hang-out, no drugs, no nothing. Sleep deprivation? I close my eyes ... open them again. The sound is for real, so is the band, playing brazil rhythms in strange black suits. I mean, what the hell are they doing (or thinking!!), playing Samba like there is no tomorrow at 9.30 am on a Saturday morning, in front of my house?? I have no clue. I still haven't. This is beyond me.

(yeah, I know... they do not look half as "scary" as they sounded, ha! Police sure doesn't seem much impressed now, do they?

The lesson in this? No plans for today, other than hopefully succeeding in staying awake. Then again, what the hell ... things are gonna happen ... no stress, no fuss ... I guess I'll just take it easy, right?