The year is 1961, the month February, and the event is the combined concert performances of the Texas all-state band, orchestra, and chorus in the Dallas convention auditorium. A member of the band, I recall one piece we performed, Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Procession of Nobles”. I can hear the majestic sound of the trumpets announcing the opening of the procession. That was almost 47 years ago—a lifetime in the early 20th century—and that musical experience marked me forever. What really stands out in my memory of that final night, though, is the chorus, whose program included an American arrangement of John Donne’s Meditation XVII, “No Man is an Island,” and also a performance with the band and orchestra of “God of Our Fathers”.
Even today I am a little embarrassed that I was not schooled in transposing music to the key of my instrument, having had no background in music theory. Apparently having developed that skill was assumed for students who had reached the highest level of high school musicianship. So, while the forces of three incredibly accomplished groups played and sang this gorgeous National hymn, composed for the Centennial celebration of the constitution of the United States, I sat, mouthpiece of my instrument to my lips, and I cried. My tears had nothing to with my abilities. Barely 17 years old, I was touched by the beauty, a beauty that has never failed to grip my soul over and over through these many years when I hear beautiful music. It doesn’t matter where I am, and it’s not limited to any particular genre of music.
In music there is a force that reaches to the depths of my soul, and it speaks to me unlike anything else. Always, always, “Amazing Grace” renders me to tears for at least part of a verse, until I am able to collect myself. “God of our Fathers”, and many other expressions of faith set to music affect me similarly. I laugh, wondering what I would do if I ever had to perform for an audience? I guess I’d learn discipline, to rein in my emotions, but that’s another story.
For all of us there are those defining experiences, maybe little epiphanies where we don’t even say “ah-hah”! Perhaps the light that shines for us in that moment doesn’t even need to be articulated. Whatever happens, we are changed. Maybe we are fortunate enough just to have a gift that opens doors and windows for us. Whether we follow the path in some formal way, or not, doesn’t really matter so much. What does matter is that something touches us, reminds us of our creation, indeed of the miracle of all creation. What does matter is that we realize and understand something much bigger than we are. Something unites us in the human experience, humbles us and lifts us up. “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main…any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.”
Even today I am a little embarrassed that I was not schooled in transposing music to the key of my instrument, having had no background in music theory. Apparently having developed that skill was assumed for students who had reached the highest level of high school musicianship. So, while the forces of three incredibly accomplished groups played and sang this gorgeous National hymn, composed for the Centennial celebration of the constitution of the United States, I sat, mouthpiece of my instrument to my lips, and I cried. My tears had nothing to with my abilities. Barely 17 years old, I was touched by the beauty, a beauty that has never failed to grip my soul over and over through these many years when I hear beautiful music. It doesn’t matter where I am, and it’s not limited to any particular genre of music.
In music there is a force that reaches to the depths of my soul, and it speaks to me unlike anything else. Always, always, “Amazing Grace” renders me to tears for at least part of a verse, until I am able to collect myself. “God of our Fathers”, and many other expressions of faith set to music affect me similarly. I laugh, wondering what I would do if I ever had to perform for an audience? I guess I’d learn discipline, to rein in my emotions, but that’s another story.
For all of us there are those defining experiences, maybe little epiphanies where we don’t even say “ah-hah”! Perhaps the light that shines for us in that moment doesn’t even need to be articulated. Whatever happens, we are changed. Maybe we are fortunate enough just to have a gift that opens doors and windows for us. Whether we follow the path in some formal way, or not, doesn’t really matter so much. What does matter is that something touches us, reminds us of our creation, indeed of the miracle of all creation. What does matter is that we realize and understand something much bigger than we are. Something unites us in the human experience, humbles us and lifts us up. “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main…any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.”
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