My Uncle Malcolm died recently. He was my last remaining Uncle. We had a special friendship in his last few years. From COVID on. We corresponded on Whatsapp about film and books and family. Work and aging. Rail travel. All kinds if things.He was an incerdibly funny and erudite man. Swete and wise and sometimes sad. Like the best people who you know,I'll always miss him.
We sometimes spoke about music as it's my central preoccupation. Hence, this. But it wasn't worth dwelling on things too much as we had much more in common when it came to books and films. Malcolm didn't care for Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, David Bowie or Kate Bush who I raised as converation points . I didn't really feel it worth pursuing though he was interested in the writing I do on here. He wrote himself.
He said that he liked Julia Holter and I'm listening to Aviary now as I make my way into my Wednesday morning toward my lessons. My 'work' . Aviary is symphonic and mysterious. Enigmatic. Reminds me of Bjork sometimes. Of an orchestra warming up at others. It's rather incredible and mysterious. I have Malcolm's dialogue with me.I looked through it just now It's like being in a conservatory. A hothouse.Tendrils. Palms. All life is there. It's rather wonderful. I'm glad Malcolm liked this. I do too.
No comments:
Post a Comment