There is always some music going on inside my mind. Interestingly, although it would be quite typical for my non-neurotypical brain, I’m not humming (instead of it, I repeat lines from movies and series again and again), like Almásy does in The English Patient, but there is always something going on. Currently one of my all time favourites, the good old Sing, Sing, Sing by Benny Goodman is “on program”, partially thanks to SAS Rogue Heroes using it during the Previously… section at the beginning of every episode.
I’m not a musical talent, although I went to a music primary school, learnt to play piano and was always member of school choires, even later, during my years in grammar school. (Well, I was considered as a talent in a small town of 2600 inhabitants, where I grew up, but for various reasons I understood quite early, that it doesn’t really matter). I’m well-versed in classical music. I like classical music, also classical-ish music by modern composers, especially when it comes to the music of films and series.
But playing the imaginary musicplayer inside my head sometimes makes strange connections.
I remember when the music pieces of Succession and Oppenheimer melted into each other. More precisely, the music of the last scene, when Kendal is sitting on the bench and the music during the scene when (or around) Rami Malek’s character makes his testament (Oddly enough, I think this is the weakest part of the script, because that character somehow, strangely, speaks from kind of an outsider point of view.) I was able to recognise the moment when it switch from one to the other, but just couldn’t make it stop.
But certainly, it wasn’t the strangest experience with my inner music player. Once I spent weeks with “listening” to W.A. Mozart’s Lacrimosa (from the Requiem). It suited very well to those grey, and boring, and depressive early March days of that year.