"When you hear music after
it's over, it's gone, in the air.
You can never capture it again. "- Eric Dolphy
if only we knew - landscapes from the sound of memory .
Back in the 1970's I spent some time in Japan.
I would have a few jobs teaching English throughout the week but beyond
that, the time was mine.
One of my small pleasures was the jazz coffee shop where for the price
of a cup of coffee, one could sit for hours immersed in the music.
Each coffee shop would have massive, comprehensive collections of jazz
albums from Japan as well as imported airmail direct from Europe and the
U.S. mining the specific interests of each owner.
I was literally educated and exposed to such an encyclopedia on the
history of jazz while engaged in the simple act of sipping a cup of
coffee.
The cherry on top of the sundae for me was that you could request music.
The master/owner dutifully cataloged their entire collection for you to
see. You could skim through this massive tome, then tell the server what
you wanted to hear.
When each record was played, they would take the album jacket out and
put it on display for anyone who was curious.
When I look back on it, I am ever so grateful for these tiny havens of
sound still lodged in my memory.
It may be true that music is a fleeting spontaneous moment in time, not
likely to be repeated. Yet these personal landscapes serve as maps if
you will, a way to lead me back to initial experiences that influenced
my life.
These encounters with music, people and nature still resonate.
Thanks for sharing the journey.
Alan Lau - April 2011
