Within Music · Within Film

Author: Zhang Yinan Wang Yan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-05-01
Features: Whether it's a sage or an ordinary mortal, as long as they quietly listen to such music, they can experience a wondrous thing happening within it; when what the eyes can see is ignored, the mind sees freely and joyfully soar. Khan Sahb didn't just view Indian classical music as a treasure hidden in the mountains but allowed it to remain dynamic and inclusive, like an ancient stone that rolls without moss. "You don't need to explain the music—just listen to it. Sometimes it makes you shed tears, sometimes it fills you with joy. Music teaches you to become a person with sensitive perception." He summarized music this way, and it makes sense, for his music already contained everything, just like the title of the music school he founded, which proclaimed his played music as "the music of the universe." I promised you we would cross together, because of a sacrificial listening. Someone magnified the light several times over, and that arm swayed on the bamboo pole. I'm obsessed with the bird song that carries gunshots, like an unbalanced joy. That sudden solemnity and the whisper that melts into a stream—without such attention, we'd die. I'll keep being obsessed. If contemporary jazz musicians still only play stale phrases that put people to sleep, then they must be the kind who eat three meals a day. To find the artisan, go to the bar where shadows twirl around. There are plenty of people throwing money into cups. It's better to listen to jazz in this city without leaving your home—they won't let time paint a layer of grease on their faces, like a pile of lively sound systems. Watching the ceiling turn into an eye, I wish that rhythm of change would leap onto the flames. Ralph Towner hadn't left a great impression on me before; he was a guy who knew how to be a good partner. My fondness for him came from the way he laid the winter curtain flat on the ground, where warmth long unused lay still, bathed in the tranquility of the morning after people had passed. People fly only by dragging out the dead bird within their hearts; in the low sky, they meet another who devours the moment. I also heard Ralph Towner's piano—compared to his beloved running guitar, his piano retains the carefree quality of a wide-angle lens. Sometimes, myth is just a small nose sniffing the dampness on both banks, often filled with great panic. I promise you, numbers are just props for drunkards. We don't have the chance to hammer in others' waiting; we are always the sunrise and sunset, and when fate trembles into a circle. I'm about to go mad—I'll build a home on that distant road. Music is the background against which tears stream past the vision. I'll take that bright wheat, and on days like this, I'll take you. The cello, David Darling's cello, found a place in the sky. The hospital in the sky sang a song, and it was a bed where breath without pipes could lie. This is how we learned to understand each other's compassion, over a long time. The cello bow began to drift in the sky, and you and I both knew where it would go. There are some pairings to be found—guitar and air, trumpet and cello in formal attire, your very light weight on the bass adorned with colorful lights, and that signature autumn pain and the red rope I pulled. Unintentionally, I became a hidden guardian of the seasons. I had already opened the one facing the sun in May. Ralph Towner had two guitars—one in each hand—12-string and classical. The 12-string was dreaming, while the classical guitar was leveling your shoulders. It resists overly dignified emotions, and it gets a chance to run outside the window. It was you trembling all over, and at this moment, everyone in the world was planting memories. I traded that silence on the Tao for it, for it, letting the eyes of the spirit roll one by one on the ground. Don't go far—next season's book is silent, waiting for us to cross. I don't know why there would be music so tightly binding the wheat. It found that night's tears in the bottle, and I will always keep two roads intertwined. We both think water can replace breathing, and that moving within it means never falling. I promised long ago to cross from different places to that place together.