Harmonies

Yesterday, when I heard about the death of David Crosby, I thought about my dad and I on Saturday, listening to the Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young album Deja Vu, pulling out the LP as we listened to the music on an old cassette tape, the kind that came in a pack of blank tapes so that a person could record whatever they wanted.  My dad used to record music shows on public radio channels, and listening to those again had this charm, perhaps a lo-fidelity charm, perhaps an artifact from the not-so-distant-but-very-gone past charm.

This morning, I thought about a conversation I had with a college friend, long ago, maybe 1985 or so.  It was that late night kind of conversation, the kind that seemed so essential then, like we were uncovering the secrets of the universe.  We talked about which groups did harmony the best.  I stayed solidly committed to Simon and Garfunkle.  My friend argued for much older folk groups like the Kingston Trio, and he shocked me by claiming those earlier groups were better than Peter, Paul, and Mary, better in every way.  

We didn't discuss any of the music that I now remember as important to me in the 1980's:  U2 or the Alarm or Bruce Springsteen.  There was interesting harmony in those groups, but it was between singer and instruments, not individuals singing to create a harmonic sound.

This morning, I'm thinking of how rare it is, still, to hear groups that can sing in harmony, to have groups that sing in harmony come to prominence.  Lately, when I shop in stores that have music in the background or scan the radio dial, I'm struck by how much modern music seems to be composed/created/collaged with the opposite effect in mind, to have components mash in ways that are not harmonic.

It's easy to have that kind of mashing, but much harder to achieve harmony.

This morning, I am also thinking of the death of Jeff Beck, who did so much to prepare the musical ground for the work I would love.  I am thinking of the deaths of Charles Simic and Russell Banks, authors I have not yet read.  Well, I tried to read a Russell Banks novel once, after seeing a movie made out of one of his books (which one?  can't remember), so I likely won't return to his work--life is short, and my reading time ever more in short supply.

I am wishing I had more conversations like the kind I had in college.  That may be one reason why I'm loving seminary so much.  We're not talking about the best harmonies of the 1960's, but we are talking about stuff that feels vital, but overlooked by much of the population.