If someone invited you to go and be, or create noise as an adult, would you do it? What if it involves rolling around on the floor of God's House Tower, and imitating a fish bowl in full view of other people? Well, welcome to Noisy Joy!
I've long intended to start writing a little about the local events I've been fortunate enough to be able to attend. I have officially busted the myth my Mum created for herself—ambivalently calling our dear, sweet Southampton "Sofa City"—without actually attempting to find out what's going on behind 'closed' doors.
Commencing from a Tuesday evening in early January, arguably our first effective and fully functioning day of the New Year, Anna Carr forged space to embrace the full power and complexity of a tool we often don't consider particularly carefully (unless you're a singer or musician). Our voice is home not only to talking, but our ability to connect with others via the art of conversation, our potential to create sound that imitates a tribal call, to make our innermost thoughts known to the outside world, and much much more. It also enables us to express a darker nature—to silence the 'unacceptable' parts of ourselves and others, to hurt without the tangibility of touch. Noisy Joy explored all of this in just three days.
The Crawford Room in God's House Tower couldn't have been more suited to our noisiness. If you've ever shimmied through the narrow corridor upstairs and found yourself cupped in the 'hands' of the stone walls, as if you're just awaiting your very own Prince Charming, you've probably also been in the Crawford Room. What began as a simple ode to the simple materiality in wood and stone, soon became 'home'; our nest of seven adult females.
One thing I really thought our facilitator, Anna, mastered was forging true connection and trust between the ladies who attended. The first night sitting around chatting and reflecting on our own voices definitely set a lovely campfire feel in a room really trying it's best to add to the warmth. Much like the podcast, it sounds so simple but ask yourself this; how often do you actually sit and listen to deep memories and stories of others without any distractions? Followed by the integration of movement, the best thing I can compare the experience to was artisanal practices that hark back to a time when women were cooking and crafting, when we welcomed and weaved stories to create a magic into the mundane. It was a bit like an adult metamorphosis.
Wednesday was another step in the journey back to a childlike place of inhibition and safety. Despite the group and numbers fluctuating slightly, the space crafted felt very consistent, which is definitely not simplistic luck. This is when the singing started, and it didn't feel like the usual squeals you make at home in the privacy of your own space, it was something elevating. One thing I specifically noticed was how the fear of being heard seeped into the background, and we really started to support each other through the individual connections and disconnections we had to our voices. In fact, I would call this more a rhythmic exploration of human sound than singing even. Anna's openness to the active part of this co-creation in noise, on reflection, feels like a craft, in addition to her introduction of the 'Shruti'—an unassuming instrument resembling a wooden briefcase with tiny tuning pieces on the back that functions much like an Accordion. It was this day I personally started to feel the resonance of music, sound and vocalism in whole being.
You would be somewhat forgiven for thinking this small series of events sounds like something "for hippies", but I personally prefer the term 'Bohemian'. It was more like a reintroduction and an unnecessary but necessary permission to go back to being our truest selves as humans, but also as individuals. The courage and connection established in that little room over just three sessions struck a deep inner chord, excuse the pun. Something about huddling together like Penguins caught in a cold breeze made striking these chords even more comforting—it's truly no wonder singing is so good for our well-being.
If you're this far down and wondering who did actually attend, I can tell you there was a varying amount of familiarity with noise-making. The most interesting parallel was probably the presence of a Vicar, in my opinion personally. When the posters say "wonky notes welcome" believe it, and it's not just that they're welcome, they're not at all highlighted so you might even manage to let go of your self-criticism in these shared spaces, and cut yourself a little slack and trade it in for courage.
I have every intention to get Anna to join the podcast in future, but in the meantime, I highly recommend keeping your eyes peeled for local events with her and her noisy gang, whether that's vocal improv group the La La Club with the SoCo Music Project or individual workshops and noise-making sessions.
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