Music and muses

Music. This word has such a deep meaning in my life, so it's hard to find the right words for it. 

It's not only in my blood, it seems it's in every cell of my body and it's my life. I wasn't always active in music, I was often enough not brave, I was shy because this how grew up.  

Dad's reflection on the music

Here and there

I see him in music,

listening to the Hammond

which was a part of his band.

Looking back to the 60s and 70s,

the bass he played 

might have been different.

He was the same guy on stage,

looking for the beauty.

In all sound patterns,

in the bassline,

that's where he was home.

(c) by Ilonka Normann/Magical Whispers poetry (from my book "Roots")

Music. This word has such a deep meaning in my life that I hardly find the right words for it.

It's not only in my blood, it seems it's in every cell of my body and it's my life. I wasn't always active in music, I was often enough not brave, and I was shy because this was how grew up.

My natural connection to art made it easy to find my way to music as a listener, and as a singer. A silent singer. Then I felt I had a voice and when I sang, people liked it. Much later on, as I found my courage and even my audience, I felt my voice, I found my words and started writing songs.

In the beginning, my English wasn't good enough, the ideas were there but my expression and my energy overstepped little boundaries and my courage built bridges. I felt a connection to other people's hearts. The silence when I was finished, even tears in some eyes as I played one time in public.

During the years I kept playing and writing, 2020 a lot online. Regularly online gigs let me get better and gave me a connection to others while all COVID restrictions gave shy people a chance. Then, after a failed experiment called „Ireland", I came back to Germany and lost all my musical motivation. It felt like meeting a monster in a kind of nightmare where everything was restricted and forbidden, every sound, every song, every fun. This monster sucked the last bit of hope and sounds out of me.

My voice seemed to be cut off, gone. I knew it wasn't. These few moments when I came back to music, I could hear it, it was there. I tried to reconnect to music several times, while my bf played new songs and shared them with me. It felt like a gift I wanted to enjoy and cherish to fade with my music into his. But I couldn't. It feels like you are disabled. A part of you has died in a big mess.

In 2021, I had my bright musical moments during the long summer holidays I spent in Italy and Northern Germany. As I heard about the flood in Ahrvalley and other parts of my region I got very sad. From all these emotions, mixed with another broken heart, I created a new song. It's called „the flood". This was the last I've written so far.

Here and there I grab my guitar and tell myself: These years are over. It's time to return. It's time to find your voice again and get inspired. Concerts help, people ask me if I still make music and encourage me to do so. It's an open end with me and the music but it's still there.

Swing days

I miss these days

when I come home

with swing in my legs

and just sounds on my tongue.

Exhausted and happy.

Another gig.

A Jazz festival.

Danced the Lindy, sweaty

and full of life.

Beer and swing in my brain,

the steps come automatically

when strangers just grab me

and throw me through the pub.

Feeling released all my youth in me,

all the music in me.

I can’t live without that.

I am music from head to toe.

I miss it.

(c) by Ilonka Normann/Magical Whispers poetry (from my book "Travels and Moves")

All photos and words by Ilonka Normann/Magical Whispers poetry.

Thanks to: Wallis Bird, Saori Jo, Cecile Corbel, Folkswoods Festival, Simon Wahl, Fjarill, Efterklang, Sophie Hunger, Karine Polwart, Rachel Sermanni, Pepper and the Jellies, the Pineapple Thief as well as Giel & Leni from the Jeker Jazz Festival in Maastricht.