Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but more endeared
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone
- John Keats

In the Spring issue of Whistling Shade we explored the territory lying between art and literature with our visual poetry feature. In this issue we travel to another crossroads, where literature and music intersect. This Shade won’t sing to you, but if you read the poetry aloud you will find rhythm and cadence and perhaps even a rhyme or two—all the music of language. It’s not surprising that many of the great lyric poets were also musicians. Edna St. Vincent Millay, for example, considered being a concert pianist (fortunately for poetry her hands were too small). Wyatt strummed his lute, Noel Coward sang when he wasn’t writing plays, and even Malcolm Lowry played as a jazz guitarist. These days literature and music seem to have crept even closer together. Many pop songs are centered on lyrics, and it’s only a matter of gradation between rock, rap, spoken word and poetry.

In these pages you’ll find a reflection of the contemporary music scene, from classical concerts to choirs to street musicians. We’ll hear from a drummer in a small time band and a sound man on a big time rock tour, and take you from a jazz concert at the Dakota Club to the musical streets of Krakow. Literature is the least immediate of the arts because it is not based on a primary sense—reading, we are not overwhelmed by sight, sound, taste, touch or smell. Rather the mind is invited to imagine them all. Yet what literature lacks in sensuality, it makes up for in strength and clarity of thought—which is why it is perhaps the most puissant of all the arts. Ye soft pipes, play on.

- Joel Van Valin