be still.

It's a strange thing that in a city with a million and half people living on top of one another so many of us still suffer from an epidemic of loneliness. We deal with other people every day, at work, on the street, in our commute, yet at the end of the day we feel alone. The ways in which we can interact with each other are ever expanding but we so rarely make an actual connection with another human and we feel increasing unknown. Perhaps that's the issue right there. We want to be known. We don't just want to have a laugh over drinks or discuss the news. Those things are fun, but leave us wanting something more, something deeper. That wanting tugs and pulls at us, it grows into a desperation, and we start to feel like being alone is torture and it's not normal and grasp for things and people to fill this gaping hole inside of us. At least this is how it often works for me.

But you know what? Being alone is okay. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, life is best when enjoyed in the company of those you love, those that really know you but sometimes I start to think that I need to have someone with me every time I leave my apartment. And the truth is I don't. If I can quiet the voices inside of me, the ones that are clamoring for me to do something, anything to find relief for the loneliness I'm feeling, I find that I'm perfectly comfortable with myself. I'm good company for me. I try to "cling to the promise," as Henri Nouwen puts it, and I put on some music.

This past weekend I was trolling through my iTunes library and found some stillness in a couple of old, dusty places. Believe it or not, sometimes I forget about all the great music I have at my fingertips but from the very first note of "I'm Old Fashioned" on the Stan Getz/Chet Baker live recording Quintessence 1 I felt myself relax. There is something special about Stan's playing. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not an expert on jazz, but I think the sound of his tenor sax is brilliant. It instantly pushes the "calm down" button inside of me, even when Chet is scatting in my ear. I've read that this is not Baker's best work, but to be honest I really have nothing to gauge it with. Perhaps I should expand my knowledge of his work and the work of other jazz greats in general, but for now, I'm content with the bits and pieces I have from the Stan Getz discography. Baker's presence doesn't really make that much of a difference to me. It's not a distraction, at any rate.


Stan Getz/Chet Baker - Quintessence 1 (1983)

Scrolling further down the "S" section of my library I came across Stars of the Lid. The opening track of their most recent offering, the two disc set Stars of the Lid and Their Refinement of the Decline, had a similar stilling effect on me. I had my headphones on. It was just after 10am on Saturday morning, and I sat frozen in my chair, ears glued to the slow rise and fall of their ambient drone. This was a rare treat, one that I really should enjoy more often but do not take the opportunity to do so because this is not really music to listen to while you're driving or while your doing chores around the house. It requires your attention because it's subtle, it's quiet (most of the time) and you must listen with careful ears to appreciate the dynamics. I tried to listen to more of this album on the way to work on Monday and I ended up drowning it out with the tired, sleepy anger and frustration in my head. The Vine St. Expressway and Stars of the Lid do not mix. Lesson learned.


Stars of the Lid - And the Refinement of the Decline (2007)

Now, if I could find some music that does, indeed, inspire calm in the middle of rush hour traffic that would be terrific. Regardless, I was struck at how quickly and noticeably the two albums above got me into a quiet place of internal stillness.