Soul music

I am still reeling from the emotional impact of brother Brahms' sublime rendition of the Air of Supplication on Boxing Day. Meanwhile, back in the human world, I am having to endure Beethoven, a lot, because  Auntie Gill is practising on him.  I am glad I am not Beethoven.  However, I think he is quite good, although compared to Beagle Song, he is rather limited in his tonal range and timing, but I can see that he does attempt to break out from the rules. Humans appear to like rules (and discipline and obedience) a great deal. Beagles like rules too, but only when it is a matter of life and death.

Singing is our First Art (followed closely by Scent Art) and we have many forms of song.  Our  exceptional hearing is especially attuned to the voice.  We also have a particular passion for horn and trumpet, which humans have invented, in an attempt to communicate in hound sound.  Once you have listened to a Pack in voice, it is clear that these instruments are an effort to mimic our range of expression.  It's a shame that pitiful hearing severely limits human creativity in sound, but I do admire them for trying.

I find symphonies and wind instruments in particular, heavy going.  This is because I not only hear the notes, but I also hear the breathing: the huffing and puffing detracts and is hard to ignore; when combined with feet shuffling and page turning, it is overwhelming; rumbling stomachs remind me of dinner and then I completely lose the plot.  Auntie Gill's piano stool squeaks, therefore Beethoven squeaks.  She should sit still.

Hound Song is all about improvisation.  It begins with a solo motif and as and when, the other voices of the chorus join in.  The beauty of our music is that each voice sings in the most fitting and comfortable key for the individual, which means that there are no wrong notes or wrong sounds, (nor is their any need for tuning up), which is the opposite to humans, who try to sound the same and are pompous about pitch.  They do make things difficult for themselves, because this embeds the concept of 'wrong notes' and to avoid 'wrong notes' they spend much time training their ears to hear better.  This is a waste of time: their ears will never get better; you only have to look at the ear's lack of mobility and small size to see that evolution has not been kind.

Personally, I prefer brass to piano.

In Beagle Song, the listener tunes in to individual voices within the chorus in search of the first motif. There is only a short time in which to find it, because we are natural improvisers and before long the first motif is heavily embellished and then, in its overloaded state will give birth to multiple motifs.  Those nights when one finds both the voice and motifs in an unbroken chain are magical:  for a passing moment, one knows the Three Mysteries and then they are gone.

Ah well!  Song enhances our lives, which is what Brahms did on Boxing Day.