Notes Become Worlds

A continuation of the previous post and a brief glimpse into my past.

Here lies the briefest rundown of the past post.

I decided to venture away from the topic of AI and Storytelling, there was an essay planned but it isn’t time to write that yet, so we move on for now. If you do have an interest in seeing the previous line by line story collaboration feel free to peruse the 2 posts related here.

The previous post however, was a Chapter of a Story named Palentra, An Eastern Village that was written and guided by a composition of Ólafur Arnalds’. I’ll explain what I mean with the term ‘guided by’ below.

Just to add a little relevant prep; in the past I have given an optional piece of music to listen to while reading. I believe this was with the Time Becomes Motion piece and suggested Jòhann Jóhannsson’s Spelling Board to accompany the read. And although I was listening to the soundtrack of The Theory of Everything composed by Jóhann at the time, that particular accompanying piece was just to allow a subtler way into the content… The piece was not guided by the music.

I’ll get to the point immediately imminently.

I’m sure many individuals, not just dancers or writers, listen to music while in the act of creation. I do too. And have done for a long time, many, many years.

It began with my older brother; he plays the piano, guit… - actually lets not do the unnatural boastful list thing - he plays the piano, at (I’d say) an accomplished level, although not classically trained to the extent of Alicia Keys. He spent a number of years composing instrumental, melodic, soul-provoking music mostly by piano and often enough I was privy to these sessions.

When we lived under the same roof in southern Sheffield, with our parents, he used to play his Yamaha keyboard (Digital Piano) in a dining room we rarely used for eating. He played effortlessly without sheet music or much practice, and just created things I couldn’t understand. {We both had piano lessons at one point but his natural prowess was too demoralising for my young immobile fingers to continue wasting their life butchering sound and rhythm. I eventually found a pen, then a keyboard with letters that compiled words not notes.} Some folks just have a gift for music, it can’t be forced.

These moments were curious to me, the part I couldn’t understand was how one could create something deeper than melodious music from thin air and ‘randomly’ structured black and white keys. {I’m aware many greats and others have this gift, but they never sat in our neatly packed dining room}. He never has explained where the music comes from. Often he would improvise, or replay one of his compositions or just let his mind unravel into each note, and I would write, (sat on the floor back against a radiator with a pen and lined paper - until I was able to acquire a laptop). I would just allow his keys to determine what I was seeing, feeling, sensing and in some peculiar way be guided by the musical notes. I would use my 26 keys plus additions and follow what would emerge from his 88 keys. We incidentally, accidentally, created an entire world this way, characters, story, mould of a fictional universe; which we’ll print into the world in the future, but back to the immediate imminent Point.

The point, I guess I don’t have one specific one, more an extended thought. This thought at the heart of it is this, music can become the muse in essence, the seed of an idea that fluently grows into something unexpected… And now that I’ve had time to play around with this musically led idea I found the stories becoming more sophisticated in different ways.

I’ll likely post a few others in this vein of Music becoming Muse.

Hmm… maybe there is a piece there too… MusicBecomesMuse.

Alas, Be well Friends.

Adieu