The Green Wave

Did you know that paper-plates can make good, swishy music? Yesterday a friend of mine hosted a lovely music party at her house and invited lots of people from our open-mike community. And I saw just how many things can be pressed into service as music-makers.

You never know how music will turn out at parties. Sometimes, people bring their guitars but then sit around talking while the big black cases crowd in the corner. But other times, as yesterday, the shining wood comes out of the matte black case, and music happens. People start singing. Knees are slapped. The floor becomes a great bodhran and feet become tippers. The chairs move. The particles dance. And someone decides to use paper plates to make a nice, swishy accompaniment. A rhythm egg emerges from a backpack. My flute came singing up like a snake out of a basket. One person is leading, but everyone else is active, adding, embellishing, embroidering. When the song ends, there is a mixed response: a whoop of delight and a sigh of pleasure.

Our host came in smiling and applauding, happy to have so much music sinking into the floor boards and beams of her house. She knows that the music will ring there for a long time, with the long echoes of all that music can be: freedom, cooperation, spontaneity, joy, friendship, and hope.

You know, most of the people in that room regularly make music out in the world at concerts and open-mikes and restaurants. But the chance to just sit around playing is so delicious and so refreshing. And that’s house-music, I think: pure play.

Houses love music. Bodies love music. Friendship loves music. Paper-plates love to be included. And because of that, everyone can find a place in home-made music. So let’s make more of it: Let’s set the rafters ringing!

Last weekend I accompanied my friend Kathleen to the Lowell Folk Festival. She has been going for years and raving about it, and now I see why! The town was alive and spirited, soaked in music and excitement, and also peaceful and inspiring.

We sat on the grass and listened to a Jamaican group called The Skatalites. Yow! What a pleasure to hear a fun, funky, tight, and glorious horn section! And also to see these men of different ages and colors all dancing and swaying together. The feeling they produced was intoxicating, wild, and buoyant. I felt myself just melt into happiness. And I also wondered, is it possible that in an alternative universe, I can be a black, lanky, young man playing a trumpet?

Or could I spend a few moments as that grey-haired, slant-capped sax player?

Or could I be the middle-aged white guy with perfect rhythm and bounce playing the keyboard?

Or the little barrel-shaped dancer we saw beating a tambourine and radiating joy, the act before?

Or the two little girls jumping straight up and down, holding hands and giggling?

Or the Big Dipper hanging over the whole scene, pouring out music and pleasure?

Or night itself, with the great whole note of the moon sending a shiver through the trees?

Or time, changing key on a whim, delving into a new joy for the ear, the eye, the mind, and the heart?

Music is possibilities!