Eulogy to John and Cary Grant
by Tim Veater
(On the occasion of a new ITV film)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sJF0_U30dE
Cool for Cats
by Tim Veater
"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit."
Alfie my cat sits on the window cill,
Black against the morning light,
In contrast, quite invisible
In the darkness of the night,
Only evidenced by scratching on the glass,
I have to let the spirit in.
Collier, Fender, Orlinski, are three cool cats upon the stage,
Making sounds, playing with our ears and soul.
Are they there or are they here?
Belatedly I've come to know
And cursed myself I am so slow,
To recognise their vocal splendour.
Each giving rise to rave revues and wild applause
From world-wide venues, people lost in wonder,
Never really knowing why
Music has this power to move, enthrall,
Casting its mythic spell,
Breaking all the barriers asunder.
Counter tenor Jakub, Jozef, Orlinski's falcetto hits the notes
Other voices cannot reach,
From a former cruel castrati age.
Pergolesi, Scarlatti, Vivaldi would be amazed and proud,
Their sounds had percolated down the sands of time,
Titilating, through medium profound, the modern ear.
Samuel Thomas Fender (“Just call me Sam”)
With a sudden jolt, brings us bang up to date,
But moves us still in quite a different idiom and sphere
Of North Shields poverty, despair and hate.
But joyfully, in a thrilling, impulsive rythmn,
Embedded in a classic American rock beat.
Jacob Collier is another prodigious musical talent,
Great advertisment for a single mother,
Chinese genes and North Finchley constituency.
Where in a lonely room he mastered
Music's complicated language, whilst still a boy,
Instruments bowing to his dextrous innovative toys.
Only the violin escaped his control, scratching on a window pane,
Mastered all the arts that modern technology supplied,
Creating multi layered sounds, defying all the accepted rules applied,
Ploughing quite new ground, definition of genius,
Promoting harmony to the crowd, making them believe,
They are a heavenly choir - and so it seems.
All three do far more than make a noise,
They resonate with something buried deep in breast,
A unifying chord that moulds the crowd as one,
To tears, to cheers, and deafening standing ovation,
On a journey to the glorious sun
And back again, returning home.
My cat who waits upon the cill, lets out a plaintive cry,
To be let in. She cannot sing, but contented sits and stares,
Listening mesmerised. For she is definitely impressed
By Jacob's piano arpeggios and scales
And Sam's annihilating supersonic missile beat
And Jakub's wine-glass shattering mountain peaks.
For music is the food of love, a recipe for joy,
A feline feast that purring humans use to see the light.
The milk of human kindness and with my cat, lap up.
'C' is for charisma, a chord that charms the ear,
Teasing, tempting all the senses, far but near,
Resolution seeking. Satisfied but wanting more.
