Other people’s words about … young boys singing
When I was a boy and I sang, my voice felt to me like a leak sprung from a small and secret star hidden somewhere in my chest and whatever there was about me that was fragile disappeared when my mouth opened and I let the voice out. We learned, we were prisons for our voices.
by Alexander Chee
I love this image of singing, of the purity of young boys’ voices before they break, and of their song.
And there is no photograph in my collection, really, that I can illustrate this post with adequately, so instead I leave you with a link to a piece of music I love — not a song at all, but a sonata by Beethoven, one that never fails to move me. Despite its overtones, these days, of hackneyed and saccharine overuse, the Moonlight Sonata in its essence is a gorgeous piece.
I think Beethoven would have understood and known that leak that springs from a small and secret star hidden somewhere in [your] chest, whether you are a boy singing or a woman listening to a beautiful piece of music. Don’t you?