I pose that question, thinking of dear musician friends who have died this past year. Sometimes, it has seemed that they took with them all the songs and tunes and lovely sounds. Not only the ones they themselves made, but the ones the inspired us to make, too.
But they are there still, their music and impetus and influence. The energy they spent making music, joining us in music, egging us on to make more music, to dare and try more – all of that remains. Songs they taught us or told us to sing unfold into vast treasure houses of memory. Their way of approaching songs, performances, and the connection to other people through sound continues to impart their lessons.
And more than their influence upon us, their music lives in the world’s ear, its long aural memory. They were bards and troubadours, wandering minstrels, itinerant harpers. They cast songs before them and trailed enchantment in their wake. They have left more than echoes and reflections. They gave the world a sweetness that doesn’t perish. Ever.
Last night we joined a motley band of revelers, each equipped with a drum or rattle, and marched through the streets of Rockport, MA trailing our own thunderous, joyful noise. Ahead of us pranced the glorious green dragon, its great head tossing and its many legs jigging independently. Father Time was there, too, with his scythe and long beard, and a cherubic Baby New Year who sported a black bow-tie along with his nappy.
Sometimes the rhythm faltered as arms tired momentarily or attention was drawn away from the task. Sometimes the back of the line lost track of the front of the line (and vice-versa, of course). But sometimes – often! – there were interludes of shared rhythm, whole-hearted, heart-beating rhythm that caught and thrilled us all. In these moments, drummers were dragons and dragons drummers.
I was reminded of Wassailing, a mid-winter custom in Ireland, England, and Wales, in which bands of musicians, dancers, and revelers create a ruckus in the orchard as a way to expel malign spirits and to wake up the trees to the possibility of Spring.
For me, last night’s Dragon Drumming helped clear out some of last year’s lurking demons and prepared me to let in a little more sun and air in the year ahead. May 2006 be a year of growth, pleasure, learning, and music for dragons and drummers everywhere.
