the human voice

I'd forgotten the beauty of the human voice.

I hear singing every day, from cd's, my roommate's mouth, cute boys trying to impress me on their guitars, random ipods turned too loud in the library,.... everywhere. But tonight I remembered what trained voices, singing in perfect harmony's can do to a torn soul. I remembered the mathematical beauty of chords in tune, and the powerful dynamic of a choir.

Flanders Fields left the audience in a trance. A tension seemed visible, but not uncomfortable. It was a tension of intrigue. I felt as though I was hanging on to every sound as their voices swelled in and out of the dissonant chords. Words can not describe the basses present, but not driving, circular rhythms, the way they wafted in and out of conscious acceptance. And I can't tell you what it meant, only that I heard pain and sorrow, and hope at the same time. I could tell you that the sopranos had perfect, glorious pitch, that transcended this world and brought something of the heavens down to a concert hall, but you wouldn't have been there, and couldn't know to what depth this piece spoke.

It felt like water. Like a huge ocean of water, with its heavy and smooth currents pulling methodically, constant, yet dynamic. Powerful and moving, even when soft. The building seemed transformed. Hollowed and deep. I wish it could have gone on longer, yet I was drained, our mortal bodies it seems can't stay in that hollowed, transcendent state for too long before they tire. It was an undescribable moment, and I think the person sitting to my right missed it.

There just aren't words. And that's why we sing.