Amuletum
In my previous blog posts, I've often focused on the connection between language and music, as I have always been fascinated by it. Every day, I continue to listen to new songs in different languages, whether they are in Polish, Spanish, or a language I have no understanding in. A language may be strictly a form of communication between two people, but to someone else, that conversation may be a song or something that catches their ear.
Yesterday, while I was struggling to find the motivation to start my Spanish homework (as we all are because of this quarantine), my brother sent me a playlist. He usually includes a variety of songs on his Spotify playlist and a lot of these songs are actually in different languages (if you like French music, listen to Christine and the Queens). I opened the playlist on Spotify and pressed shuffle. While I was trying to type in Spanish, the song that suddenly started playing caught my attention. It opened up with a beautiful harp and flute solo, and suddenly a high angelic voice filled my ears. The song I am describing is called "amuletum" by Japanese singer Ichiko Aoba. I've always liked songs in Japanese by artists like Shintaro Sakamoto, Kero Kero Bonito, and Kishi Bashi, and am enamored with how the language sounds. What I loved about this song by Aoba is that it immediately made me feel happy and I just melted listening to it. It reminded it me of my childhood when I would just sit outside, surrounded by nature, and just imagine that there were fairies around me. I would always wish fairies were real and that they were watching over for me. I believe that this song wouldn't have the same effect on me if it was written in a language that I could understand. Since the language was in Japanese, I was able to find a meaning that was connected to solely the instruments, sounds of the words, and my own inner thoughts. The song gave me the freedom to make my own story and relationship to it. The idea that music is a language has always been something that people have talked about, but is it true the other way around? I think it is. I often find myself intrigued by foreign conversations and songs in foreign languages. It allows an individual to not just focus on the words that are being said, but the emotion conveyed. It provides a freedom and creativity of expression instead of having words shoved into your ears.
So basically I just wrote this blog post on how much I love the song "amuletum" and I really think you all should listen to it. It gave been a sense of happiness in the midst of all this craziness. If you do end up listening to it, please comment below on what you thought about it. I'll include the link below:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypuG18IjHcs
Yesterday, while I was struggling to find the motivation to start my Spanish homework (as we all are because of this quarantine), my brother sent me a playlist. He usually includes a variety of songs on his Spotify playlist and a lot of these songs are actually in different languages (if you like French music, listen to Christine and the Queens). I opened the playlist on Spotify and pressed shuffle. While I was trying to type in Spanish, the song that suddenly started playing caught my attention. It opened up with a beautiful harp and flute solo, and suddenly a high angelic voice filled my ears. The song I am describing is called "amuletum" by Japanese singer Ichiko Aoba. I've always liked songs in Japanese by artists like Shintaro Sakamoto, Kero Kero Bonito, and Kishi Bashi, and am enamored with how the language sounds. What I loved about this song by Aoba is that it immediately made me feel happy and I just melted listening to it. It reminded it me of my childhood when I would just sit outside, surrounded by nature, and just imagine that there were fairies around me. I would always wish fairies were real and that they were watching over for me. I believe that this song wouldn't have the same effect on me if it was written in a language that I could understand. Since the language was in Japanese, I was able to find a meaning that was connected to solely the instruments, sounds of the words, and my own inner thoughts. The song gave me the freedom to make my own story and relationship to it. The idea that music is a language has always been something that people have talked about, but is it true the other way around? I think it is. I often find myself intrigued by foreign conversations and songs in foreign languages. It allows an individual to not just focus on the words that are being said, but the emotion conveyed. It provides a freedom and creativity of expression instead of having words shoved into your ears.
So basically I just wrote this blog post on how much I love the song "amuletum" and I really think you all should listen to it. It gave been a sense of happiness in the midst of all this craziness. If you do end up listening to it, please comment below on what you thought about it. I'll include the link below:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypuG18IjHcs
Thank you for the gift of this song. I am listening to it as I type.
ReplyDeleteYouTube had a collection of songs that started with another one of hers, so I listened to the ethereal Japanese singers for much of the afternoon as I struggled with some government forms and finished up the introduction to a piece of scholarly writing. That music gave a calm focus to the work.
DeleteHi Kasia! I really like your post! I just listened to a new song from my favorite singer from Belgium, Loic Nottet and it was all in French. I found that although I don't speak French I connected deeply to the music. I agree that not understanding the lyrics but focusing on the music itself really allows for the emotion within the song to shine.
ReplyDelete