Bergen, Bryggen, Norway
I once had a conversation with a friend about how amazing, yet impossible, it would be to see every photograph you ever appeared in. Not just the ones you were aware of, but even those when you were walking past in the background of someone else’s shot or in some other way completely unaware that you were going to become a part of someone else’s life. Perhaps indefinitely. Though you would never know.
Imagine what you would see. Your life from a different perspective.
Tonight I posted a comment on twitter, saying I was enjoying a beer and listening to Lumsk. (For those who don’t know – and I imagine this is quite a few – Lumsk are a Norwegian band with an amazing mix of instrumentation creating music which ranges from classical, traditional and even operatic to dark, brooding and heavy. It is intelligent and widely varying music.)
Now keep in mind this band hails from the other side of the planet to Newcastle, Australia. Yet within minutes a local follower replied that he was only listening to this same band last week. This got me thinking. Surely Lumsk is not conscious of having a fan-base so far-reaching. My fellow twitterer just happened to hear them in a small shop in the back streets of Bryggen in Bergen when visiting a few years back. And me? I read about them in an online forum for people learning Norwegian language.
Needless to say neither myself nor my follower had come across the band by any commercial marketing means or radio airplay. It was all just a matter of chance.
Who knows how many other fans there are that they will never know about. In the same way, every night of every week in every town there is someone playing a piece of music that is connecting with someone. But that connection is often never verbalised or expressed. It may be forgotten, or it may lie dormant yet still have a significant impact in the listener’s mind for a very long time.
Imagine a musician or band pulling together in one place all the fans they ever connected with. Even the least successful may manage to fill a stadium.
So – if you like something, make it known. The creators of the music who crafted it from out of nowhere would surely love to hear of it.
Imagine what you would see. Your life from a different perspective.
Tonight I posted a comment on twitter, saying I was enjoying a beer and listening to Lumsk. (For those who don’t know – and I imagine this is quite a few – Lumsk are a Norwegian band with an amazing mix of instrumentation creating music which ranges from classical, traditional and even operatic to dark, brooding and heavy. It is intelligent and widely varying music.)
Now keep in mind this band hails from the other side of the planet to Newcastle, Australia. Yet within minutes a local follower replied that he was only listening to this same band last week. This got me thinking. Surely Lumsk is not conscious of having a fan-base so far-reaching. My fellow twitterer just happened to hear them in a small shop in the back streets of Bryggen in Bergen when visiting a few years back. And me? I read about them in an online forum for people learning Norwegian language.
Needless to say neither myself nor my follower had come across the band by any commercial marketing means or radio airplay. It was all just a matter of chance.
Who knows how many other fans there are that they will never know about. In the same way, every night of every week in every town there is someone playing a piece of music that is connecting with someone. But that connection is often never verbalised or expressed. It may be forgotten, or it may lie dormant yet still have a significant impact in the listener’s mind for a very long time.
Imagine a musician or band pulling together in one place all the fans they ever connected with. Even the least successful may manage to fill a stadium.
So – if you like something, make it known. The creators of the music who crafted it from out of nowhere would surely love to hear of it.
RSS Feed