Alison Wells Author

In a section of Mike Oldfield’s instrumental and voice album Amarok there is a man who walks through music, you can hear his footsteps as he walks down imagined shadowy vaulted halls. This music is the kind you paint with, woods, wars, adventures, mountains, sun rise, danger, triumph, exhilaration.

But there is other music too, music we close our eyes to, where the notes resonate against the frequency of our sorrow, love, joy, where the voice is a guide rope through a welcome black stillness. If there are those stereo speakers we stare at them and experience all voice, the man, or woman is encapsulated inside the speakers, disembodied but intact, the quality of sound, sentiment, melody being everything necessary.