Blame it on my melomania
I heard someone say that “those French, they have a word for everything”. A slight overstatement, although they have more words than I do. One that I wish we would absorb into English is “melomane”. Perhaps we already have. I will check.
It’s a word that I would like to have engraved on my monument. The eventual one; we’re not there yet. I believe that it describes me, on an ordinary day. I realize that there are a lot of musicians out there, something like the number of grains of sand on a small beach. Not as numerically important as the stars in the night sky, but a lot. And I also realize that my moment of greatness has passed. I am not, and will not be famous.
However, I am willing to make recommendations to others. Even if the don’t ask; a character flaw. Usually, my children get unsolicited text messages, pointing out someone of interest. I have more listening time than those who have to make it to work each day.
Will I begin a list, here? No, life is too short. But if I do pitch a name from time to time, it is done because someone has managed to astonish. And if I offer the name, a second time, it’s because I have reached the age of forgetfulness. Please, forgive me, and go find out why I believe in the importance. Not my importance. I am but a listener, remember. Rather, be glad that I’m not trying to copy a particular song, aurally. I could do that given my access to technology and a random collection of instruments in my secret cave.
