Classical Music

(Updated Sept. 19, 2022)

I started listening to classical music, if memory serves me correctly, in my late teens. This would be around 1977 or so.

As I’ve mentioned elsewhere in this blog, music has ebbed and flowed in my life: early in my life it occupied a major portion; as the years and decades passed, it became less and less so. Still, music is a part of my life and continues to come and go as the mood strikes me.

I’m not one of those men who can hear a piece of classical music and say, “Oh, this piece was composed by such and such…” Rather, my taste in classical music is somewhat limited, I think, to specific kinds. There is a lot a classical music I don’t like (opera, for example), and I think most of this is the modern classical music: it lacks much of the beauty, depth, and true genius, in my opinion, of the older classical music. So much modern classical music, to my ear and taste, is far too discordant for my liking.

Recently, while in my truck listening to our local classical music station, I heard a piece I do not believe I ever heard before and it struck me as one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever heard.

I asked my iPhone, “Hey, Siri, what song is this?” and the miracle of modern technology informed me it was this:

I have replayed this numerous times and find it to be one of the greatest pieces of classical music I’ve listened to. Here is what appears to be a longer version:

I certainly cannot claim to be an expert in classical music, but over the decades that I’ve enjoyed listening to it, this piece represents the type of classical music that I enjoy. Another favorite classical music style of mine is guitar, lute and piano.

Another wonderful and moving piece is titled, “Pachelbel: Canon in D”. :

Pachelbel: Canon in D

And though I’m not a huge fan of opera music, this short piece below, sung by the great Luciano Pavarotti, never fails to send chills down my spine (most notably beginning at 2:42):

And another of my favorite music is Spanish guitar/flamenco, as seen and heard in this wonderful piece below:

Taking time out of our busy days to relax and enjoy the finer things of life has always been an important aspect of my philosophy of life. And something as simple and easy to do as listening to a favorite piece of classical music is one of the best that a person can do. Soul nourishing, to be sure.

Yearning For Simplicity

The older I become, my craving for the simple life increases. Our world is so consumed by strife, noise, conflict, wars and threats of war, uncertainties, complexities, health crisis, etc., that I desire to return to another time when life was not so insane.

I mentioned in a prior post that, though I was more of a music lover/listener in my teenage and 20’s, I’ve drifted far from those times when music was so much a part of my existence. Though I still listen to music, it is nothing compared to the amount of time I once spent engaging in it. The Greek philosopher Heraclitus summed this up nicely when he said, “You can’t step into the same river twice.” Life is constantly changing, and so are we.

As many have noticed, when we watch a video on Youtube, the algorithms suggest certain videos based on our previous views and individual preferences. One of these suggestions is the music by Neil Young; at 76 years old, he is still playing, performing and writing music, though I only like less than a handful of all the music he has written and sung.

The song that keeps coming up in my feed was one of his best known songs, “Old Man”:

Neil Young performing “Old Man” in 1971

I was 11 years old when this concert was held. Something strange happens to me when I hear this song: I’m brought back to that special time in my troubled life that, though rarely if ever great, nonetheless provided me with an escape and a certain feeling of beauty through certain music that reflected an oasis of sanity and goodness.

At 0:43, Young begins the introduction to the song. This simple guitar melody instantly takes me back to that time in my youth when I first heard this tune. Though I cannot remember where I was or how old I was when I first heard this particular song, that powerful “something” in my soul resonates upon hearing these chords.

One of the remarkable aspects about this particular song is the simplicity of it. Here is Young, 26 years old or so, performing by himself; no backup band, no other singers, no fancy light show or fog machines, but one young artist with his guitar. He is seated on a chair, dressed modestly, and is not jumping all around, baring his hairy chest and waving his guitar in the air…just a simple man playing and singing a simple song and the effect is, at least to me, overwhelming and powerful.

There was a certain simplicity and innocence with Young at this moment in his life, a persona that, to me, was lost as he aged, became a wealthy music star, and achieved the pinnacle of success as a musician. His music evolved into harder rock and roll, with all the trappings of this genre: loud music with a far harder edge and a more “look at me” emphasis, two things I back away from in music.

One man with a guitar. Simple. Uncomplicated. Nothing fancy. And as powerful and moving as one can get, singing and playing a song with his distinctive, trademark voice that over 50 years later, can still move the soul.

Young sings of lost love, loneliness, a desire for something meaningful. Young, with all of his new found wealth as a rising star and with his recently purchased ranch from two lawyers, at the end of the day, coming home to his ranch, is just as lonely and longing for companionship as his old, poor caretaker is. Loneliness and the agony of failed relationships is an equal opportunity employer that does not distinguish between the rich and the poor, the famous and the nobody, or the old—the caretaker—and the young—Neil Young. Loneliness and regret touches all of us without preference, condition, or status.

And one man, with only his guitar and voice, has the wonderful gift of touching our souls with this sad and haunting message.

Here is another classic from, I believe, the same concert:

Heart of Gold

And again, the same powerful feeling as “Old Man” but with the added touch of another instrument, the haunting sound of a harmonica; still, one man, one voice, but now with two instruments. Still, nothing fancy, no theatrics, no jumping up and down, no eye popping and grotesque facial contortions.

And again, at the beginning of his guitar and harmonica solo at 1:48, strong and overpowering emotions and memories are evoked in my mind and soul, bringing me back to that time long ago when I first heard this particular piece of music. In the midst of a life living with an abusive father, somehow this song, like the other, spoke to my troubled life and brought me comfort and perhaps a bit of sanity in a personal, insane world.

I have heard these two particular songs by Neil Young for decades. How many times? Who knows…at least dozens and dozens. Maybe over a hundred; I don’t know.

And like I wrote in the above mentioned post, that special “something” that was part of these kind of songs from my past cannot be replicated today. If Neil Young sang this song today using the exact same guitar, it would not sound the same. He has changed, and because he has changed, that song and the special vibe it threw off has changed as well. I’m unable to explain it better than this.

But simplicity of life, of music, where I live, how I spend my days—all of these things and more are now marked by simplicity. Does Neil Young need a seven piece band to play his early 1970’s music, like “Old Man” and “Heart of Gold”? No, he doesn’t, but what folk/rock stars perform by themselves any more? It seems all of the successful ones now travel with full bands and have brought light shows, fog machines, and all the trappings of “high energy” concerts to their adoring fans.

Not for me. I prefer the old paths, the paths marked by quiet, uncluttered simplicity. A lifestyle centered on thinking, philosophy, and mediating on the deep things of life, the “things that are more excellent.”

So often, less is indeed more.

Will Our Lives Matter?

Most of us, I’m sure, come to a point in our lives when we look back and ask ourselves, “Does my life really matter?”

Put another way, if you or I were to suddenly die, would anyone say, “Thank God this person lived on this planet”? If you believe in heaven or an afterlife, will anyone greet you there and say, “Thank God you were born because you were instrumental in saving my life back on Earth!”

I’ve been fascinated by WW2 for decades, reading about this monumental event in world history and watching countless videos and movies on it. One of my favorite movies is the fictional story starring Tom Hanks, “Saving Private Ryan.” There is no doubt that when the Allied forces landed in Normandy on D-Day in June of 1944, the people of France were delirious with joy when they realized their long and brutal occupation under the Nazi’s was coming to an end. Their nightmare of oppression, fear and death was ending.

Those soldiers who lost their lives liberating Europe from the scourge of Nazism can look back and truthfully say, “My life counted for something…”

I’ve always wanted my life to “count for something.” To have someone enthusiastically greet me when I enter heaven and say, “I thank God for you, Roy, that you were on the Earth because you saved my life and I just want to thank you!”

This might be wishful thinking on my part, but perhaps it may be true. Here’s why:

I’ve been involved in pro-life work since around 1983. Part of that story is here. Another part of that story is here. I want to add to this part of that wonderful story now.

From “Pro-Love’s” contact page.

Briefly, since 2015, for the first time in decades, Christians in Tucson, AZ have been able to peacefully stand in front of this city’s only abortion clinic who performs surgical abortions and offer to the women going in there help to assist them in this difficult decision. Whatever needs these women have, concerned and loving Christians, standing outside the Planned Parenthood doors, are offering—for free—whatever they need: medical, financial, a place to stay, etc. All for free.

One of the most effective outreaches now available to both the hurting and disillusioned women and men entering the Planned Parenthood clinic is “Pro Love,” a ministry that I witnessed with my own eyes begin on the sidewalks surrounding this medical plaza that for decades was off-limits to Christians wanting to help the men and women walking into the PP clinic.

Here is the first paragraph from their “About Us” page:

“Pro-Love Tucson is a grassroots organization that has been serving women and men on the sidewalks of Tucson’s Planned Parenthood clinic since 2016. Our volunteer sidewalk advocates act as a bridge between Planned Parenthood and the many resources available to people in our community.”

 The amazing thing about Pro-Love is how effective they are in reaching women in their times of crisis pregnancies. Upon information and belief, since they first began reaching out to moms and dads on the sidewalks, at least 22 babies have been spared the abortionist’s knife and suction machine and are alive today. Here are some of the stories.

Though I am not a part of Pro-Love, I honor their commitment to life and justice as they faithfully, for years now, stand on the sidewalks and offer help, hope and healing to the hurting.

Recently on Facebook, I read this message from a pro-life group I subscribe to. Here is the screenshot:

I’m going to take a guess which I believe is fairly accurate, though I cannot state for certain it is exact truth: since these sidewalks were opened up to pro-life Christians around the middle of 2014 or so, approximately 50 babies have been brought into this world that otherwise would not be alive today due to the unceasing efforts of the various groups, individuals, organizations and churches that are there to offer help.

I thank God that I was privileged to be used by Him in such an instrumental way. All the countless hours that I spent on those sidewalks by myself when the lawsuit was first won has all been worth it…even the times when my life was threatened and I was almost run over by a car that came onto the sidewalk curb where I was standing by a crazed, hateful pro-abortion man.

Perhaps this poem will help, titled, “I shall not pass this way again,” by Eva Rose York. It’s wonderful and has spoken volumes to me over the decades that I have read and reread it. I particularly like this last section:

I love the beauty of the scene,
Would roam again o’er fields so green;
But since I may not, let me spend
My strength for others to the end,—
For those who tread on rock and stone,
And bear their burdens all alone,
Who loiter not in leafy bowers,
Nor hear the birds nor pluck the flowers.
A larger kindness give to me,
A deeper love and sympathy;
Then, O, one day
May someone say—
Remembering a lessened pain—
“Would she could pass this way again.”

Finally, here is a video of a young woman who I believe chose life for her baby. This was about a year after I won the lawsuit and I was standing in front of the other abortion clinic in this private medical complex that eventually shut down (unfortunately, it has recently re-opened and provides the abortion pill):

My great hope one day will be to learn that my feeble efforts at fighting evil while living on this planet will have made a difference to at least someone.

And just maybe, someone left on Earth as I enter into the world beyond might say, “Would he could pass this way again!”