Violins in the Modern Era

Popular music in the 20s and 30s, especially dance music, had the violin as an essential ingredient. At least 2 or 3 violins could be heard in a typical dance orchestra. Society bands would often include as many as 6 or 7. But in the mid 1930s, the Swing sound had arrived in the US, and soon all stringed instruments including the violin became surplus to needs. Since the 1960s, of course, the guitar and bass guitar has reigned supreme in pop and rock music. But the merging of folk with rock sounds in the late 1960s and early 1970s,meant that once again the sound of violin strings became part of the mix. Since then and over time in the 1970s, the arrival of disco also meant the inclusion of strings in the overall sound. But with advent of synthesiser in the 1980s, the violin lost its way for a time, whilst emulated string sounds reigned supreme.

But now the violin has made its comeback, and is being increasingly part of a new wave of mainstream pop. Independent artists such as Final Fantasy (aka Owen Pallett - example here) and Andrew Bird have developed a focused style, creating a subcategory of indie rock called “violindie”.

A favourite for me: Andrew Bird and “Danse Caribe on the album Break it Yourself 

Hawk Roosting

Today at Benjamins Cottage, I saw a sparrowhawk through the conservatory and managed to get a picture from our upstairs window.  Though in a tame garden environment, the bird recalled to mind the poem by Ted Hughes from wilder scenes.

It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

In our post-enlightenment western civilisation we have indeed tried to hold creation in our grasp. The poem demonstrates  that this must be seen, in the end, as a thoroughly misguided pride. In the process, the civilised values of human life that give it significance have been forgotten. Man in our times is driven by mad impulses and obsessions.

Still, my hawk looked benign, though a little preoccupied.

Hawk Roosting

Ted Hughes (1930 - 1998)

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.

Inaction, no falsifying dream

Between my hooked head and hooked feet:

Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!

The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray

Are of advantage to me;

And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.

It took the whole of Creation

To produce my foot, my each feather:

Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -

I kill where I please because it is all mine.

There is no sophistry in my body:

My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.

For the one path of my flight is direct

Through the bones of the living.

No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.

Nothing has changed since I began.

My eye has permitted no change.

I am going to keep things like this. 

_____________________________
Published 1960

On the Difficulty of Identifying Clouds

First published April 22nd 2012

I have just come in from taking a few pictures of the sky, after a short and sudden hailstorm. Recently, I have been discussing with a friend, the names and identities of clouds. The spring season is on us, April is delivering the anticipated showery days, and the time seems propitious to nail down some of this esoteric wisdom.

Here is a view looking north from our house.

Cumulonimbus - or possibly Cumulostratus

And here is the opposing southerly view, a few minutes later

Cumulus threatening to be Cumulonimbus

I am reminded once again of how tricky it is to pin down these esoteric names. I have studied the guide ( here it is from the Met Office), and have looked at similar photos of clouds on their website: but I still find it a puzzle to commit between Cumulus, and the lower-level Cumulonimbus. And getting the distinction between Cumulonimbus and Cumulostratus is also a challenge.

In my “northerly” view above, I think I’d  go for Cumulostratus, given that there are no distinctive white cotton-wool edges anywhere … or are there just a few hints of them in there?

In my “southerly” view, we see only the top half of some very fluffy Cumulus – but behind the trees, wno knows what Nimbus awaits?

The philosoper Heraclitus of Ephesus (540-480 BC) teaches that all things are in flux or change. This for him was the case, in spite of what empirical evidence might indicate at times. Nothing is permanent, but everything is constantly becoming something else or going out of existence.
It doesn’t rain much in Ephesus, but I think he must have seen a few clouds in his time.

Met Office guide to cloud types and pronunciations

Source: metoffice.gov.uk