On deep listening
I spent an hour listening to an album and doing nothing else
A few weeks ago I was sat in an 18th-century building, converted from an old courthouse in central London. There were candles on each table even though it was the afternoon, not even close to sunset. The painted walls were peeling with intention in that tasteful but slightly pretentious way that no one could ever pull off in their own home.
I was there to listen to Laura Marling’s new album Patterns in Repeat. (She has a great Substack, and this was one of the little gifts for founding members.)
Everyone in the room was given a lyric booklet and colouring pencils, so you could spend the time colouring in her patterns as you listened to the record. So we all – a bunch of strangers – sat in silence collectively listening to a piece of music none of us had heard before. The only other sounds were the chinking of tea cups and the occasional dropping of pencils on the floor.
The record is intimate, the songwriting true to an artist that’s been doing this for almost 20 years. But I didn’t feel especially close to it then – much of it is so held in her experience of becoming a mother that I felt distanced from it in a way that I hadn’t with her music before. I’ve since seen her play it live twice, listened a few times again and the intricacy of her guitar playing and the melodies she’s built is enough to draw me in. It is a truly beautiful record.
The listening event was special to me, and not just because I’ve been a fan since I heard her first single played on the radio all those years ago. Those moments spent listening to her album held a certain profundity that I’ve tried to carry with me since. It was a moment of quiet, of thought and of rest. A time to dedicate yourself to doing one thing and one thing only, a kind of listening that, certainly I – and no doubt many of us – don’t often get to do these days. (Even as I write this I’m ignoring the temptation to go on my phone.)
It is difficult to just sit and listen well in a world of so many distractions. Of course, to be able to spend an hour of a day solely listening is an extreme luxury in such a volatile and and destructive world. I am grateful for that time, grateful that this is something I am able to do in my life and in my days.
I have a wandering mind, or a wondering mind – both, I guess. It’s so easy to find myself strolling, sometimes frantically running, down a path of thoughts that are a far distance from what I was thinking about a second ago or from where I am. Sometimes I get lost and it can take me a couple of wrong turns to find myself back to my place of origin. Other times, particularly when I wake up in the night, I get stuck in a maze and I’ll be there for an hour or more trying to find my way out. I try to listen to these thoughts, try to understand them and where they come from. I’m able to ignore them as I go about my day and they become meaningless in the intense thinking we do in waking hours. I understand though, that it’s important to listen to these little niggles and deal with them when you can.
Even as I sat listening to the album my mind went elsewhere, but I think that’s ok. Music inspires thought and emotion, to really listen deeply will surely take you elsewhere. I wondered about her lyrics, about her life as a mother, about my friend’s first year of motherhood, about my friend’s mother who recently passed, about directions, others and my own, about my songwriting, about how I spend the hours of my day and what I could or should be doing. But then the next song played, and I was brought back into the room again, into her words, her composition, to myself sitting next to a friend I hadn’t seen in months, sharing this time together.
It’s all a cycle, I guess, patterns in repeat. She wasn’t wrong.
Blue notes
If you can, take some time to listen to an album this week. Try Patterns in Repeat.
It’s been six months since I released my EP It Takes Time, which has inspired a lot of self-reflection as time passing normally does. Please have a listen to it as well, if you can.
A friend, collaborator and wonderful musician Diego has started his own newsletter, based around oxymorons.
As always, thanks for reading and supporting.