As soon as the second-line beat, the same beat that has been the pulse of New Orleans, started up, I found myself drawn to the stage like a mosquito to the marshland. A moment before, he had looked like any other musician. But when the music of the bayou began to play, he became the wise man from the swamp. The rhythms brought the mysteries and secrets of the voodooist who embodied an ancient experience beyond memory. He understood these mysteries, and passed them on to us in a language we could hear and understand. His presence somehow was associated with first and primary things. I was mesmerized and at the same time, my body wouldn't stop moving. The music stoked the fires within the crowd, and and as they burned, the flames would entice the audience.
Come now, hold back nothing. Your longing is satiated. Your soul will delight in the body being fulfilled. If you hold back nothing, then nothing will be withheld. If you give all, all will be given. Our souls - a piece of the carnival from the swamp. The essence had not only brought music but knowing. If you give your body to the revel, you will open our spirit to the touch of revelation. This music was a process of a farewell to the flesh and an introduction to the spirit.
The musician's body moved in waves that seemed to bridge the invisible world to the living. As he shook his head, his eyes would gaze upward; the music like a letter from home. He moved across the stage with a catlike grace, squeezebox hanging down like a collapsible snake, waiting to be unwound, to strike, to be played. Through this music from the bayou, the spirits had found a point of entry as we all danced along, while our bodies left and the the dance remained.
I was enthralled. I had never seen anything like him. I knew that this was what I wanted to do. I realized for the first time, after twenty years, what music was really about.
We were there to inspire.
No comments:
Post a Comment