Music Slices Through Cultures
I can hear the "Call to Prayer" sitting here ready to write. I get such a good feeling when I hear the sound booming across the neighborhood. Some of the dogs are howling because it hurts their ears. From what I hear, it was much nicer when it wasn't a recording. I can imagine it was quite affective. When I hear the voices of the men in Istanbul selling simit, umbrellas, and other items, I am surprised by how well they project their voices over and over again without seeming to strain their vocal chords. I would guess it was an honor to be the person chosen to be the "caller" before it went to the recordings.
I also like the sound that the men make as they call when they take their carts up and down the streets to ask for any spare parts, wires, and junk. I'm a junk collector myself and have a great respect for these men who are not ashamed of working. It beats throwing the things in garbages and polluting when these things can be reused or recycled.
To think it's amazing that someone is pushing a cart made of wood with big old wooden wheels up and down the cobblestone streets. They are doing more for the environment than the man coming home in his car, taking his old electronic things and throwing them in the garbage when he replaces them with the newest technology. The need for money is the incentive here, but it's still productive. Usually when it costs someone to NOT take care of the environment, they think twice about what they are doing. Here, they need the money, so there is no choice but to collect the junk.
I attended a choral concert a few weeks ago and heard some beautiful classical Turkish music. The instruments were called, Kemençe, Ney, Kanun, Ud, and Taylı Tambur. The voices in the choir all blend into one loud sound. (but not a straining sound) The sounds of the instruments have similar sounds to the voices singing the pieces. The audience often would break into song and clap in rhythm during certain pieces. They weren't asked to join in, but it was obvious to me if you didn't, you were not Turkish (like me, I didn't know the songs) They knew all the words, the various clapping rhythms and when to slow down, etc. It felt like they all agreed on the meaning of the words they were singing.
The choral director has only two motions. One of the motions is raising his arms up, to get the chorus to sing louder. The second one is down, to get them to sing softer. (and when I say softer I mean a moderate volume)
I noticed the singers use their hands in a similar way when they emphasize the notes that waiver when they hold out a word. They all tend to sway together during some of the more energetic pieces. I could hear the sadness and meloncholy in most of them.
It was nice not to have to look at the program (I wasn't able to read most of it anyway). I just sat down with a woman named Birim, who invited me to attend the program. She is normally a choral member and was helping her aged mother and father the last few months and was unable to perform with the group. She'd fill me in on some of the members and tell who the "solo" performers were. (and many other unnecessary details, but interesting, of course)
I had plans to join the Turkish choir, but I took a job teaching and was unable to get to the practices they have during the day. I figured if I could learn songs in Latin I could learn songs in Turkish. So, for now I listen to the radio and chant along and try to imitate the sounds. Music always speak so strong to me, whether I can understand the words or not.
Yesterday, more than a hundred children sang in unison at a school ceremony. It was enchanting, and full of heart. It was the Turkish anthem and the voices sounded like one. Of course I cried. It helped me remember music slices through all cultures and life is the same everywhere. I couldn't stop it from touching me in a deep way. No camera or recorder could have preserved the magic I felt being there. It was the first one I attended since I've taught at this private school, I won't miss another one, that's for sure.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Happy Birthday, Jimmy Bruce, many more.
I also like the sound that the men make as they call when they take their carts up and down the streets to ask for any spare parts, wires, and junk. I'm a junk collector myself and have a great respect for these men who are not ashamed of working. It beats throwing the things in garbages and polluting when these things can be reused or recycled.
To think it's amazing that someone is pushing a cart made of wood with big old wooden wheels up and down the cobblestone streets. They are doing more for the environment than the man coming home in his car, taking his old electronic things and throwing them in the garbage when he replaces them with the newest technology. The need for money is the incentive here, but it's still productive. Usually when it costs someone to NOT take care of the environment, they think twice about what they are doing. Here, they need the money, so there is no choice but to collect the junk.
I attended a choral concert a few weeks ago and heard some beautiful classical Turkish music. The instruments were called, Kemençe, Ney, Kanun, Ud, and Taylı Tambur. The voices in the choir all blend into one loud sound. (but not a straining sound) The sounds of the instruments have similar sounds to the voices singing the pieces. The audience often would break into song and clap in rhythm during certain pieces. They weren't asked to join in, but it was obvious to me if you didn't, you were not Turkish (like me, I didn't know the songs) They knew all the words, the various clapping rhythms and when to slow down, etc. It felt like they all agreed on the meaning of the words they were singing.
The choral director has only two motions. One of the motions is raising his arms up, to get the chorus to sing louder. The second one is down, to get them to sing softer. (and when I say softer I mean a moderate volume)
I noticed the singers use their hands in a similar way when they emphasize the notes that waiver when they hold out a word. They all tend to sway together during some of the more energetic pieces. I could hear the sadness and meloncholy in most of them.
It was nice not to have to look at the program (I wasn't able to read most of it anyway). I just sat down with a woman named Birim, who invited me to attend the program. She is normally a choral member and was helping her aged mother and father the last few months and was unable to perform with the group. She'd fill me in on some of the members and tell who the "solo" performers were. (and many other unnecessary details, but interesting, of course)
I had plans to join the Turkish choir, but I took a job teaching and was unable to get to the practices they have during the day. I figured if I could learn songs in Latin I could learn songs in Turkish. So, for now I listen to the radio and chant along and try to imitate the sounds. Music always speak so strong to me, whether I can understand the words or not.
Yesterday, more than a hundred children sang in unison at a school ceremony. It was enchanting, and full of heart. It was the Turkish anthem and the voices sounded like one. Of course I cried. It helped me remember music slices through all cultures and life is the same everywhere. I couldn't stop it from touching me in a deep way. No camera or recorder could have preserved the magic I felt being there. It was the first one I attended since I've taught at this private school, I won't miss another one, that's for sure.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Happy Birthday, Jimmy Bruce, many more.
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