a flashy rhetoric!

O“lafur Arnalds

"Thu Ert Jordin"

Sound.

At the surface, it’s something that’s easy enough to define: energy from some origin that is manifest as a vibration through space. Science defined it, and math quantified it. But to say that the song you’re currently listening to is nothing more than the harmonious collision of longitudinal waves doesn’t seem quite right, now does it? This is because what you’re hearing, right now- at this very second- isn’t just a random selection of notes coarsely plucked out of the tonal spectrum by some uncouth, indelicate hand. You are hearing this right now because the song’s composer compiled and sequenced these specific notes for the world, and because I, moved by his work, have decided to relay them onto you. It is because, out of the trillions of possible musical configurations that the composer could have created, he chose the sounds you are hearing right now.   This song isn’t merely random noise. No, no. 

This song is a decision. It is a choice. It is a stance, and it is a movement.

And that’s really what’s magical about sound, isn’t it? It is a movement. By its very nature, sound must have a source - an origin from which it draws life. Something - or someone - has to create it or else it does not, it cannot, exist. There is no sound in a still, motionless world. This is the beauty of it: because you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if you hear something, the sound had to come from somewhere. It had to be created. It had to be born. For those with the proper heart, sound soon becomes an intimate relationship: a relationship between those who create the sound - whether God, gravity, or man - and those who hear it. And, whether you like it or not, the moment a sound falls upon your ears, you become part of that relationship. You become the Listener. 

And just as in any true romantic relationship, you become a vulnerable part of an unshakeable, imperishable whole. Listen to this song for a moment. Fall into the soft, cascading subtleties of the melody; lose yourself in the solemn surge of the violin, then, a brief moment later, find yourself again in its deep, resonant echo. 

Learn to appreciate sound.

Learn to appreciate silence.