For me, its got to be the drone.
That familiar note, heard so many ways, but yet somehow always the same.
Whether its the chanting of the Buddhist monks in the high mountains of Tibet, or the drone of the Aboriginal Didjeridu proclaiming its voice into the Australian outback, or the mesmerizing sound of the sitar, its all somehow the same and connected.
Its something primal, recognizable, something that beckons to our core, the indescribable feeling of ultimate peaceful Zen.
The Sitar is the perfect example of this Universal note.
As I listen to Ravi Shankar begin his performance, he begins with this droning sound, the sympathetic note that so defines this beautiful Indian music.
He is accompanied during this concert with a Sur Bahar player, which is a deeper bass version of the Sitar, and a Tampura player providing the sympathetic drone.
Also joining them are two tabla players.
After establishing the drone, we are lead on a journey as the Sitar notes play along, like a butterfly carelessly flittering in the wind.
The notes just seem to naturally fall into place, and the bends add a sense of emotion and feeling.
Like the Sitar is telling its sad tale of suffering and hardship.
It is truly an instrument with a voice.
At a seemingly non-redetermined moment, the tabla begin to add a rhythmic sense to the music.
The beat is not what you might think of as steady and predictable.
Instead, its full of twists and turns like you are traveling sometimes quickly and sometimes at great clip through the hot streets of Calcutta.
The sitar swells and subsides with the mood of the tabla, all the musicians somehow completely connected in a web of the perfect tonal meditative moment, yet each exploring his or her own path of musical exploration; it is truly improvisational music, and I'm sure no two performances are quite the same.
I am filled with a feeling of peace, as the sound of this strange yet somehow familiar music allowed my mind to fill with images of mythical creatures, beautiful and strange lands, and wonderful and mysterious people.
I begin to think of that Universal sound again.
I can almost hear a didjeridoo player up there and realize he is fitting in just nicely.
My Tibetan monks join in.
Now we have a Global jam!
That familiar note, heard so many ways, but yet somehow always the same.
Whether its the chanting of the Buddhist monks in the high mountains of Tibet, or the drone of the Aboriginal Didjeridu proclaiming its voice into the Australian outback, or the mesmerizing sound of the sitar, its all somehow the same and connected.
Its something primal, recognizable, something that beckons to our core, the indescribable feeling of ultimate peaceful Zen.
The Sitar is the perfect example of this Universal note.
As I listen to Ravi Shankar begin his performance, he begins with this droning sound, the sympathetic note that so defines this beautiful Indian music.
He is accompanied during this concert with a Sur Bahar player, which is a deeper bass version of the Sitar, and a Tampura player providing the sympathetic drone.
Also joining them are two tabla players.
After establishing the drone, we are lead on a journey as the Sitar notes play along, like a butterfly carelessly flittering in the wind.
The notes just seem to naturally fall into place, and the bends add a sense of emotion and feeling.
Like the Sitar is telling its sad tale of suffering and hardship.
It is truly an instrument with a voice.
At a seemingly non-redetermined moment, the tabla begin to add a rhythmic sense to the music.
The beat is not what you might think of as steady and predictable.
Instead, its full of twists and turns like you are traveling sometimes quickly and sometimes at great clip through the hot streets of Calcutta.
The sitar swells and subsides with the mood of the tabla, all the musicians somehow completely connected in a web of the perfect tonal meditative moment, yet each exploring his or her own path of musical exploration; it is truly improvisational music, and I'm sure no two performances are quite the same.
I am filled with a feeling of peace, as the sound of this strange yet somehow familiar music allowed my mind to fill with images of mythical creatures, beautiful and strange lands, and wonderful and mysterious people.
I begin to think of that Universal sound again.
I can almost hear a didjeridoo player up there and realize he is fitting in just nicely.
My Tibetan monks join in.
Now we have a Global jam!
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