#104 Dropping the ball

a knack of discovering music

Hello friend,

Sorry to have been out of touch, but I've been unwell over the last few weeks. I got a head and chest cold, and as I was getting over that, my son came home with a fever. After nursing him, I also came down with a fever. I think my immune system was still a little weak or something, so I got it so much worse than my son's. I had a fever for about a week, together with nausea and vomiting. I cannot recall ever being so ill.

Since I write these posts every week, I found myself without anything to post. I need to write a handful of posts just in case of emergencies.

I dropped the ball. I'm only just regaining some mental clarity. Since I've already been struggling with imposter syndrome and feeling burnt out, this last bout of illness has kicked me in the guts.

So excuse me while I try to recharge my desire to write, find inspiration, and back up to the marathon of life.

A random knack for discovering music

When it comes to music, I have a clumsy knack of accidentally discovering things by mistake. Nobody told me what to listen to, read, or watch. I've discovered everything with blissful randomness. It is an organic process of happy accidents and connections I have made.

I came into contact with opera and classical music one Sunday afternoon as a bored twelve-year-old channel surfing on the TV during school holidays in Australia.

I stumbled upon a live Met opera broadcast on the ABC network, which has never left my memory. Twirling through the radio channels on my old stereo made me find ABC Classic FM, a radio station dedicated to classical music, which educated me on all sub-genres of this complex type of music up until my mid-twenties when I moved to Italy and sadly lost this soundtrack to my life.

I first heard the American beat poet Allen Ginsberg performing his Ballad of the Skeletons on Australian Triple J radio station the year he died, leading me to Jack Kerouac, Patti Smith and an entire generation of artists I didn't know existed.

I heard Roy Orbison when his final album came out in 1988, warbling You Got It. I fell for his ephemeral voice and slowly worked my way backwards through the catalogue of one of the founding fathers of Rock and Roll, gathering an understanding of everyone from Elvis Presley to Charlie Perkins, Johnny Cash and the Grand Old Opry.

The Travelling Wilbury's led me to the songbooks of Tom Petty, Bob Dylan, George Harrison and Jeff Lynn; this led me to Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, and Tom Waits, all in a natural organic progression through American and British rock.

I also discovered musicals from the TV, watching Sunday afternoon re-runs of classics from Gene Kelly's American in Paris, Singing in the Rain to Mary Poppins, the Sound of Music, Carousel, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Brigadoon, The Wizard of Oz and a whole universe of stories.

I'm eternally grateful for late-night classic movie re-runs, which gave me the joy of witnessing Fred Astair's fancy footwork and unique works of art performed by outstanding actors like Humphrey Bogart, Katharine Hepburn, Lauren Bacall, Peter Lorre, Charles Laughton, Peter Ustinov, Charlton Heston, Kurt Douglas, James Stewart, Vivien Leigh, Bette Davis and the endless stars in a galaxy who shone so brightly in the now classic Hollywood style. But then that's a whole other story.

Today, my playlist is a motley succession of artists from Icelandic princess Bjork to the hauntingly addictive voice of Thom York, the beautifully retro sound of Amy Winehouse, the original power of Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday and equally powerful Florence Welch.

What I put on my playlist will change according to my moods, the seasons, and whatever else I may be thinking of, consuming, or witnessing.

There is precious little pop in my listening unless, to the best of my ability, I find something too catchy to ignore or become transfixed on a chorus or a tune, but it soon works itself out of my system.

I'm Australian, so I grew up with some great lyricists playing on my radio, including Nick Cave, Paul Kelly, Missy Higgins and Gotye.

The haphazard habit of discovery continues today when the unique sound of someone like Billie Eilish or Grace Vander Wall suddenly strikes me.

There was a period of my life when I forgot about music. As is the case with grief, loss or trauma, your body goes numb, and you kind of phase-out of the world entirely as you take time to heal your heart and slightly damaged soul. For a moment, listening to music was painful. But eventually, the music comes back; it eventually does as you begin to live again. Music has helped me immensely to keep going despite great sadness and holds up many of us.

Words and music have been the two things that have helped me through life. Music reminds us we are never alone and are each a part of a beautiful story, which is, in turn, a part of ourselves. Our emotions are the same as everyone's, and our experiences contribute to this collective knowledge, which grows and continues beyond us. Music is a part of the universal language of love, compassion, emotion, and humanity, and it sustains us all.

I live in Italy now, and I'm fascinated by the sounds of contemporary Italian music, which has developed along the same lines as Britain, America and Australia. I love the sounds of Italian rap artists like Fabri Fibra, Fedez and Jovanotti, the trendy, almost K-pop sounds of Maneskine or the Kolors, and the soul singer sounds of Noemi and Fiorella Mannoia.

Every year, I look forward to the Sanremo Italian song contest, to hear the latest songs, discover new artists like Mahmood, or hear established artists that I love, like Francesco Regna and Nek.

It is truly fascinating to think of how we each have a unique relationship with music and song. It's about finding a distinctive sound or story that sticks in my mind. It may give me pleasure and help me forget, laugh, or cry, but above all, it's a unique connection to an emotive universal language.

I want to write more about music, so I'll publish occasional posts here about my eclectic listening habits and share some visceral reactions to different sounds I've heard.

My listening playlist uniquely connects me and my personality; each has a personal soundtrack that will accompany us through life.

That's all from me for now, speak to you again

Rochelle

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