{"id":14,"date":"2013-01-22T11:43:27","date_gmt":"2013-01-22T11:43:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/?p=14"},"modified":"2013-04-19T15:10:15","modified_gmt":"2013-04-19T15:10:15","slug":"shouting-sun","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/?p=14","title":{"rendered":"Shouting Sun"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"shouting<\/a>Swimming to wakefulness and the sound of the alarm. The roaring bell clapper. The sound stopped, revealed the distant hints of morning; birds gossiping in the streets, milk bottles chattering in crates, the milkman\u2019s inane whistle.<\/p>\n

Dave Roper, yawning, tried to sense what sort of day it was; sniffing for the solar wind. Dragging his resisting body \u2013 still imobilised by the toxins of sleep \u2013 from the bed, he drew the curtains. A reflex action that one, it made him smile.<\/p>\n

He stared at\/ through\/ past the windows with sightless eyes, seeing what he could with his ears. The imperceptible tone colours of a fine, clear day, a few clouds perhaps, fluffy cumulus, seemingly suspended without support, disconcerting. Everything reflecting, crisp and clear.<\/p>\n

Yes, he could feel the sun on his face. He felt for the radio, switched it on and got some nice morning voices, good.<\/p>\n

Today, he\u2019d go to the hills.<\/p>\n

With a roar and a stutter, and a crunch of stones the bus started on its way. Behind him, and to the left, Viv, his Labrador led the way along the path, he could feel its dry chalk, smell the dust. There was a cool breeze, despite the hot sun. He could hear the grass, the birds\u2019 fluttering feathers.<\/p>\n

A steep climb up the weathered slope to the ridge, he found the stone, a small menhir of hard rock. Roper felt around the surface, the dry lichen and the rough crystal.<\/p>\n

Roper looked around with his inner eye.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re there Asmodeus, I smell you, I can feel your vibrations in the earth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI fear that I cannot hide from the eyes of the blind.\u201d said the demon, sitting on top of the stone by the sound of it. Roper sat down on the ground, rolling a cigarette. It had taken him ages to work up the confidence to light a cigarette -he had been sure he\u2019d burn himself. He often wondered if he would have been better off to have been born blind. It was hard to say whether his childhood sight had helped his development, or merely directed it.<\/p>\n

The odour of Old Holbourn mixed with the breeze.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat have you got to \u2018raise my spirits\u2019 today?\u201d the demon prodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou really do thrive on conversation don\u2019t you?\u201d Roper replied lazily, lying down on the warm ground.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat else is there Mr Roper? Eh? What else is there to fill in the time till the end of the universe? I shall converse till this galaxy is dispersed…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have an alternative, it may not serve you, but it serves me. Asmodeus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt suits your abilities Mr Roper? Those acrobatic ears of yours, eh?\u201d The demon looped and somersaulted in the air above him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAs you say; nevertheless, activity does not necessarily imply understanding. Have you ever considered the impact of music? What is the origin of it\u2019s effect? That of the visual arts, or literature is easier to trace. But how does music evoke it\u2019s response?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cI would suggest, my dear Roper, that it\u2019s effect is subliminal\u201d replied the creature, alighting on the ground.<\/p>\n

Dave remained silent, feeling the weight of the ground beneath him, and remembering a particularly powerful piece by SFF. What was it called? Symphonic Pictures…<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s probably true, but you haven\u2019t said why the subliminal response is there, eh? What in nature would elicit such a response?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ask me Mr Roper?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you\u2019ve been knocking around this island universe for longer than me Asmodeus.\u201d Roper lit up another roll-up.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is true that I have been \u2018around in this plane for a while\u201d the creature sighed, \u201cbut I fear my time has been wasted,\u201d he paused, and then continued suddenly as if something had just occurred to him, \u201cHeartbeats Roper, your lives, in a primal sense, are full of rhythms. Some are a bit long on the time scale, but a rhythm is a rhythm, even if it\u2019s extended temporarily.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave Roper sat up, turning in the direction of the creature\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen what\u201d he asked with triumph, \u201cabout melody, tunes, themes, mood, tonality, atmosphere, the illustrative side of music? It all evokes a response, but can you see any direct link with the environment? I doubt it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you have me…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell the response is still subconscious, or it\u2019s key is. But why certain frequencies and arrangements of sound? It could be linked with the songs that hump backed whales sing, or some prehistoric mating display…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have a theory, Mr Roper?\u201d The demon sounded almost interested.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHa Ha.\u201d the demon laughed, taking advantage of his tenuous nature to fly around Roper\u2019s head. \u201cYou astonish me Roper.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t take the piss Asmodeus.\u201d said Roper, desperately trying to sense where the demon was. \u201cYou little bugger.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMalice is way of life Mr Roper, but to continue, why do you have no answer? It\u2019s not like you is it? Eh?\u201d The demon wheedled, sneering.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it a necessity to have an answer? One might maintain that asking the question is enough, makes you think rather than just take music for granted. If you listen to Bach, Beethoven, Free, Hawkwind, Deep Purple, Elgar, Bartok, Focus, Pink Floyd, it doesn\u2019t matter what it is, eh? Jazz or the Tocata and Fugue.\u201d Roper paused. \u201cYou may be turned on or off, but you can still analyse your response and ask why, it\u2019s like a radio play without words, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are in the ascendancy, Roper\u201d the demon hesitated \u201cbut you must have a personal theory, a hunch…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo me\u201d said the blind man, \u201cmusic is a replacement sense, a sonar of the right hand cortex, one can paint with sound, one can see with it: not just outside, but internal structures. One might say that I\u2019m insane, but I feel that my handicap is inverted, I think that music is a fine communication, a step in evolution, like telepathy. Once I had the blindness of the sighted, now I have the sight of the blind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is nice to know that we share and lack the same senses, Mr Roper, is it not?\u201d The demon\u2019s voice smiled warmly.<\/p>\n

\"media\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Originally published in Media<\/strong> fanzine, 1979, N. Ballock (ed)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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