Imaginary Garden for real toads had a musical prompt for Friday, but as soon as I read the words "Sometimes, I write about how experiencing live music feels", I knew I would have to use this piece for my post. I saw this group, back in the eighties, play live at Chichester Festival Theatre. For those who don't know, its modern architecture is closer to the original form of 'theatre in the round', and the accoustics were incredible when Incantation played this music.
Below are two poems I wrote as a result, and I'm leaving them just as they hit the page all those years ago, when this music spoke to me for the first time.
Tarka, Quena, Drum, make the ether thrum.
The theatre's high vaulted dome would be the sky,
if the pipes were home, in Bolivia.
Joyous, noisome sound echos far around
and struggles to unleash the ties
that hold it earthbound, under skies that beckon.
Bright music swirls around. Pan pipes, drums and flutes
hurling notes into the air, that soar on high and hover there,
then dive down helter-skelter chutes,
to the depths of the bass drum notes .
The ancient rhythms pound, robbing mind of thought;
soul and body both repeat the ancient music's dancing beat
that all the instruments have caught
with their glorious, rainbow sound.