Sunday 10 June 2018

Pay no attention to the man behind the gong

I visited a local music and arts festival this last weekend as I was interested in trying out a few things via the workshops on offer.

In the end I tried out:

  • Gong bath
  • African drumming
  • Belly dancing

which probably tells you all you need to know about the type of influences on the festival and there were indeed a number of achingly conspicuous hippy types.

Gong bath

A gong bath invites you to lay down, close your eyes and listen while a chap (in this case, called Bear) bangs and tinkles various gongs while wandering around you using a huge variety of instruments.  Afterwards, he asked us to stand directly behind the biggest gong and at times you could feel your body resonate and sink into the instrument itself.

For the prior piece, the overall effect is akin to being in at times a highly immersive horror or science fiction soundtrack (I "recognised" sounds from Alien and was reminded of Interstellar a few times too) - but without the scares.

African drumming

The instructor for this workshop was an immensely charismatic and encouraging - creating rhythms that felt thrillingly tribal yet accessible.  It may be a bit woo-woo, but there is something immensely primal about hammering out a seemingly complex beat with a dozen strangers as it gets faster and faster. I totally get the appeal.

Having never played an African drum before - it was fantastic to learn a few of the basics. Hand always flat, edge of the drum for high notes, middle for bass etc.

Belly dancing

The missus had given me a mission to find out more about belly dancing classes in the local area so I thought I might as well sample the wares.  Again led by another talented instructor (who was welcoming when I tentatively asked if anyone could have a go).  Encouraged, I tied the biggest and most jangly belt around my waist.

It turned out to be a huge amount of fun. By the end of the session, I'd learned to do a pleasant sounding shimmy, as well as the basics of circling and a figure of eight.

Sadly, this will likely be my last belly dancing for a while as the missus is rather firmer about gender norms than I am - and has forbidden me to go to any classes.



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