music
I've known for a while that Natalie is strongly motivated by music. She loves hearing songs, and there were lots of times when she was a baby when the only thing in the world that would calm her down was one of us singing her a song (preferably, multiple people singing it as a round). That would grab her attention right quick.
When it's just me and her in the car, it's fun to play her fennel's mixes, because she will just talk with me over the music until one catches her ear, and she asks, "what's this one? Who is singing this song?"
Anyway, until recently, she's mostly just asked questions about the lyrics of songs. But two recent conversations have made me curious about how much attention she pays to music.
Scene #1:
N, D, and I are driving in the car in Georgia over winter break. I am singing something, and David joins in. Natalie, from the backseat, says, "No, daddy, you stop singing. Just mommy should sing. When you sing it makes mommy's voice lower."
...well, that's true. I can sort of carry a tune all by myself, or if someone's singing the same part as me, but singing against someone else is hard and I do have a tendency to go flat. But... really? Enough that she NOTICED?
Scene #2:
I've been on a bit of a Paul Simon kick since election day. Last Tuesday, I was playing Graceland in the car when I picked up Natalie. As I got in the car, I said, "oh, Natalie! I think you might like this music I'm playing now. Let me find a good song for you and then tell me what you think of it." We had a bit of a conversation about which song to play which wound up with her spontaneously saying, "play me your favorite one." Unsure what to choose, I chose Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes. Since then, I've played her a few other songs from the album -- she is QUITE concerned about the boy in the bubble and the baby with the baboon heart and hopes that their doctors can help them be healthy soon -- and she keeps coming back to that song. We've probably played it eight or nine times together in the past week.
At first, she asked about the lyrics, as usual. "Why is she a rich girl? Why is he an empty pocket? Why is she crazy? Why are her diamonds not on a necklace? Why is he saying woo ooo ooo ooo ooo?" But she has also been very interested in the break after the a capella bit with Paul Simon and Ladysmith Black Mambazo, where the band comes in and it sounds like a different song. Then she started insisting that I play it "starting from the part where he says she's a rich girl" (i.e. that opening bit). Then she said she liked "the band part where there's no singing". Then, last night, the following conversation:
N: And this part of the song is the band part.
Me: Yes, it is. The band plays music for a while, and then the singing starts again later.
N: .....there are lots of sounds in this song.
Me: There are. Lots of different instruments.
Me: like... DRUMS...
N: and MARACAS and SHAKERS...
Me: and GUITARS...
N: and TRUMPETS...
Music: *janglejangle*
N: and like a BANJO...
Wait, a BANJO? How does she even know what a banjo IS? I mean, I don't think it IS one, but it was jangly steel strings that sound different from the other guitar parts. It's not insane to think. Shortly after that, she declared that she was tired of Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes and that Call me Al was her favorite song EVER EVER. Uh, okay.
Anyway, most of our conversations about music aren't that complicated, but sometimes stuff like that happens and I wonder who on earth I'm talking to. It's fascinating.
When it's just me and her in the car, it's fun to play her fennel's mixes, because she will just talk with me over the music until one catches her ear, and she asks, "what's this one? Who is singing this song?"
Anyway, until recently, she's mostly just asked questions about the lyrics of songs. But two recent conversations have made me curious about how much attention she pays to music.
Scene #1:
N, D, and I are driving in the car in Georgia over winter break. I am singing something, and David joins in. Natalie, from the backseat, says, "No, daddy, you stop singing. Just mommy should sing. When you sing it makes mommy's voice lower."
...well, that's true. I can sort of carry a tune all by myself, or if someone's singing the same part as me, but singing against someone else is hard and I do have a tendency to go flat. But... really? Enough that she NOTICED?
Scene #2:
I've been on a bit of a Paul Simon kick since election day. Last Tuesday, I was playing Graceland in the car when I picked up Natalie. As I got in the car, I said, "oh, Natalie! I think you might like this music I'm playing now. Let me find a good song for you and then tell me what you think of it." We had a bit of a conversation about which song to play which wound up with her spontaneously saying, "play me your favorite one." Unsure what to choose, I chose Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes. Since then, I've played her a few other songs from the album -- she is QUITE concerned about the boy in the bubble and the baby with the baboon heart and hopes that their doctors can help them be healthy soon -- and she keeps coming back to that song. We've probably played it eight or nine times together in the past week.
At first, she asked about the lyrics, as usual. "Why is she a rich girl? Why is he an empty pocket? Why is she crazy? Why are her diamonds not on a necklace? Why is he saying woo ooo ooo ooo ooo?" But she has also been very interested in the break after the a capella bit with Paul Simon and Ladysmith Black Mambazo, where the band comes in and it sounds like a different song. Then she started insisting that I play it "starting from the part where he says she's a rich girl" (i.e. that opening bit). Then she said she liked "the band part where there's no singing". Then, last night, the following conversation:
N: And this part of the song is the band part.
Me: Yes, it is. The band plays music for a while, and then the singing starts again later.
N: .....there are lots of sounds in this song.
Me: There are. Lots of different instruments.
Me: like... DRUMS...
N: and MARACAS and SHAKERS...
Me: and GUITARS...
N: and TRUMPETS...
Music: *janglejangle*
N: and like a BANJO...
Wait, a BANJO? How does she even know what a banjo IS? I mean, I don't think it IS one, but it was jangly steel strings that sound different from the other guitar parts. It's not insane to think. Shortly after that, she declared that she was tired of Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes and that Call me Al was her favorite song EVER EVER. Uh, okay.
Anyway, most of our conversations about music aren't that complicated, but sometimes stuff like that happens and I wonder who on earth I'm talking to. It's fascinating.