Music as magic.

In the beginning, according to Chailley, music was a form of magic. A spontaneous incantation. As it was extemporaneous, a melody could be custom-tailored to solve any problem. A piper could invent, on the spot, a tune that would lure little children into the mountains...or another tune to lure little mousies. Gods could easily send wind across the tops of river reeds to seduce bathing nymphs. And Orpheus' gifted strokes of the lyre were said to induce trees to uproot themselves so that they might follow him.

A raucous and roaring battlesong rouses the fearless warrior in a young boy. A love song arouses the fearless lover in a young girl.

Melodies give voice to the ineffable. They attempt to express a vast and dumb emotion in words. Try to capture the fathomlessness, the capriciousness, the confusion of human feelings in any language. Or spend your time at more fruitful efforts, like persuading an elephant to swim in a teacup.

Words are effective organizers, but with use their creative capabilities become palsied.

Music, on the other hand, improvises. Speaks to parts of the person that words are unable to touch.

Cellos make my chest ache. Drums make my heart pound.

Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughn and Billie Holiday are sirens who lure me into meditations on love and heartache. Rachmaninow excites me like thunder and calms me like rain. Orff taunts me. Duke Ellington and Artie Shaw lead me down the garden path. Tom Waits makes me laugh and then breaks my heart and then makes me laugh again.

That's magic.