Today's song has all the ingredients that I love--spacey bass, 90's beats, airy vocals, punchy synths, piano riffs--and it's a masterpiece of elements... The sum is so much more than its parts here. Whenever I listen to songs like these I always like to imagine myself in the crowd--what the lights are doing, where it's dark, where there's fog, where it's only a strobe. And, I have to say it definitely has that "Australian Sound"--something about the outback, with a bit of bassy garage, really is unique. The other song that I think typifies "Australian Sound" is Gat Decor's classic "Passion" (Naked Remix). Which definitely has some parallels to today's song, but this one feels a little more grounded.
Just a couple nights ago, I dreamt I was playing the oboe again. I haven't played it in years--since 2014. When I woke up, I was so enamored with the idea of playing again. My old oboe, now dormant in a storage bin in Wisconsin, is a Chauvet from the 1970's. It cost something like $2,300 back when we bought it, as it was a very good quality oboe. The sound was warm and velvety, yet clear and bright--my favorite sound from an oboe. It had a crack in it, which we got repaired. I'm sure it has many new cracks now.
I'd so love to take it home again, to give it to a small specialist store to repair, to find a private tutor, to make some reeds, and to play! Maybe even with a woodwind trio or quintet. My favorite in high school was the trio--flute, oboe, clarinet--we played some magical contemporary pieces that were quite sophisticated. That was my favorite sort of music to play, and is one of my favorite types to hear, but I have to clarify that it's no longer considered contemporary, I think. If anything, it's best called "midcentury". Think Aaron Copland, a bit of Philip Glass, a great deal of Stravinsky, and some Shoshtakovich for good measure. I'd still love to hear anything Stravinsky in person. I never have...
It's an interesting desire, as I hadn't thought about the oboe seriously in ages, too. The only time it comes up is in small talk, usually when discussing if anyone's ever played an instrument. "Yeah, I played the oboe", and then move on. And it is very interesting to me, and refreshing, to have these vivid ideas and thoughts be positive. You see, my experience with the oboe was really a mixed bag. I was qutie good at it, and found artistic expression, and had fun with friends. But there was a period of time where I took it very seriously. We got a private tutor, I learned to shape blank reeds from the store. I went to band camp for two summers. And I competed, practicing my competition piece for ages and ages. And, to make a long and disappointing story short, I didn't do very well.
Obviously, my life has not been one long string of successes, nor has it been a string of failures, but it may be a string of partial successes or partial failures. Take my tennis experience, for example. Measured objectively, I did not do very well. I was too in my head during the meets. I had an excellent, long forehand stroke that I could do for hours, slowly but surely wearing down my opponent, perhaps even boring him. I remember one meet, I was 4 singles, and our match started about an hour into the meet after a particularly riveting doubles had ended. If someone was expecting entertainment out of my match, they were surely disappointed. It was just serve, forehand, forehand, forehand, for sets and sets. And I was getting very close to actually winning a match, for the first time, ever. (At least in a meet). The problem was that the game was taking too long. All the other matches started ending, but mine was still going on. And that moment, when people started paying attention to what was happening, when they started to see there was a chance for me to win, that's when it all went very far south.
Predictably, I stopped playing tennis at the end of that season. Yet, ten+ years later, I'm grateful I did it in the first place. And if I ever met someone who played, I would play again.
Not too long ago, maybe a few years, I'm not sure--these memories were colored with shame and regret. Shame of my mediocre performance, and regret for my giving up. And this shift in perception, away from the negative, is what I noticed right away after waking from my oboe-dream. And, surely, it's not something I was actively trying to change. In fact, I hadn't thought about oboe or tennis very much for these ten years. But, I guess it's a reflection of the changes happening in all the other parts of my life, a sign that everything is changing, that even my memories are being reframed--without my even noticing.
I'm reminded of the first day of the year when you can smell winter in the air. There's always a day, and it's always very strong. You can just smell that winter is coming--that summer is over. And it's not around the corner, in the sense of a week or two, but it is coming, and soon enough you forgot about the day you smelled winter, and slowly but surely winter comes. Then, with that first snowfall, or that first day below 30 degrees, you are struck again by the realization that you are in winter now, and although you couldn't say how you got there or how long it took you, you can say that you are somewhere different than you were before.