David Key: News/Journal

I will be in an upcoming issue of the Wilmington Magazine, a local publication. Allison Ballard sat down with me and pulled out some good stuff. I'll let you know when it is due to hit the stands.

Sound Bibliography

Please visit my website for upcoming workshops and journal entries dealing with sound and healing. You can also email me with any questions or concerns at davidkey@davidkeymusic.com.

Google: Jonathan Goldman, Steve Halpern, Don Campbell, David Hykes and the Harmonic Choir, resonance, entrainment, drumming and brain research, overtone healing, overtone chanting, Mongolian chant, toning, sound and chakras, shamanic drumming, healing and vibration, sound therapy….

Print Resources:

Chanting: Discovering Spirit in Sound, by Robert Gass. Broadway Books, 1999.
ISBN 0-7679-0322-6.

Drumming at the Edge of Magic: A Journey into the Spirit of Percussion, by Mickey Hart, with Jay Stevens. Harper Collins Publishers, 1990, ISBN 0-06-250374-X.

The Healing Power of Sound: Recovery from Life-Threatening Illness Using Sound, Voice, and Music, by Mitchell L. Gaynor, M.D. Shambala Publications, 2002. ISBN 1-57062-955-2.

Healing Sounds: The Power of Harmonics, by Jonathan Goldman. Element Books, 1996.
ISBN 1-85230-848-6.

The Healing Voice: How to Use the Power of Your Voice to Bring Harmony in Your Life, by Paul Newham. Element Books, 1999. ISBN 1-86204-548-8.

The Healing Voice: Traditional and Contemporary Toning, Chanting, and Singing, by Joy Gardner-Gordon. The Crossing Press, 1993. ISBN 0-89594-572-X.

The Listening Book: Discovering Your Own Music, by W. A. Mathieu. Shambala, 1991.
ISBN 0-87773-610-3.

Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain, by Oliver Sacks. Alfred A. Knopf, 2007.
ISBN 978-0-676-97978-7.

The Roar of Silence: Healing Powers of Breath, Tone and Music, by Don Campbell. The Theosophical Publishing House, 1989. ISBN 0-8356-0645-7.

Sacred Sounds: Transformation Through Music and Word, by Ted Andrews. Llewellyn Publications, 1999. ISBN 0-87542-018-4.

Sound Medicine: Healing with Music, Voice, and Song, by Laeh Maggie Garfield. Celestial Arts, 1987. ISBN 0-89087-483-2.

Sound Medicine: The Complete Guide to Healing with the Human Voice, by Wayne Perry. New Page Books, 2007. ISBN-13: 978-1-56414-970-1.

NEW NEWS!
I am very happy to be joining Leon McKay and Debra Collins at McKay Healing Arts, in Wilmington, NC, offering individual and group Sound Medicine™ sessions. In these sessions, I open and align energy centers and create a deep meditative state for people I am working with. I use flutes, ocarinas, rattle, drum, and voice in this work. I am also facilitating toning circles for those who would like to create healing sounds for themselves. We also have plans to combine modalities, offering an accupuncture, massage, sound medicine package to really create bliss! My info will be coming soon to the McKay website. An exciting direction for my work.

My music is now available for download from PayPlay.fm. Check it out--the link is in the Buy CDs section

When I watched “The Last Samurai” for the first time, it helped me realize the connections between the traditional Japanese culture and the spiritual practices of indigenous Native Americans. Both come from a place of listening inwardly and also being aware of the spirituality of all of life. Learning from what is seen and felt around them—more than just noticing, but feeling empathy for the cherry tree blossom or the Hawk’s cry. There is also an honoring in action—creating a shakuhachi or a sword; the dance of the tea ceremony all involve a heightened awareness of the process as well as the finished product. Just as the original people in our country will be in a place of meditation or prayer when creating a beaded dress or a Medicine Shield, or listen to the bird calls around them to guide their flute playing. When I create sounds, I try to follow those examples and create sacred space.

Again, basketball and music-making—related in approach. If I haven’t shot baskets for a few days (or more) it takes a certain amount of time to get it back. Not a long amount of time, in the grand scheme of things, maybe five minutes, but enough for me to start feeling anxious about whether or not I’ve lost it. Then, when I stop worrying and thinking so much, I begin to reconnect to the feeling of taking a shot. Instead of being critical about every little thing I’m doing, I try and remember what it feels like to shoot (“The Zen of Hoop and Ball”). Only then do I start to find the form again. When I play shakuhachi, because it is a relatively new instrument for me, I have the same experience. Only when I let go of judgment and negativity do I begin to find the space where I can remember what it feels like to create sounds on that instrument. Such a fine line between the “getting” of it, and the “losing” of it.

PORTER’S NECK YOGA AND SPA PRESENTS
“SINGING FOR THE TURTLES”
Musicians David Key and Ella Hill Perform Original Works

Saturday, November 11, at 6:30 pm, Porter’s Neck Yoga and Spa, Charleston Place, Wilmington, will present David Key and Ella Hill in concert. The concert, entitled “Singing for the Turtles”, is a benefit for the Karen Beasley Sea Turtle Hospital. The Topsail Island organization is known for its important work rehabilitating sea turtles, and protecting sea turtle nests. All proceeds from ticket sales and CD sales will be donated to the hospital.
Ella Hill makes Oak Island her home. She is a singer, songwriter and storyteller who is committed to raising awareness of the beauty and interconnection of All Our Relations. As a descendent of the Algonquin and Mohawk peoples, Ella guides earth-centered healing rituals and ceremonies that promote self-healing, harmony, and balance. Ella will be sharing original chants and drumming rhythms from her upcoming CD, “Turtle Woman.”
“Ella and I have similar approaches to our music making,” says David. “Our music often comes from our experiences in nature, in meditation, and in Dreamtime. This past summer, Ella and I both had powerful encounters with Turtles. She found one on Oak Island who had washed ashore, no longer alive. A few months later, I witnessed the miracle of a turtle hatching on Topsail Island. Since that time, we have both composed new pieces inspired by our experiences.”
David and Ella will combine their voices and instruments in a concert to honor the turtles, and help the Sea Turtle Hospital. The performance will be held in the yoga studio of Porter’s Neck Yoga and Spa, and is open to all ages. Admission is $12. For more information, or to purchase tickets, call 910-686-6440, or visit Porters Neck Yoga and Spa at http://portersneckyogaspa.com/ Visit the Sea Turtle Hospital at: http://www.seaturtlehospital.org/

Earth Medicine is available at iTunes (and other online sites), where you can purchase single pieces, or the entire album, as mp3s. Welcome to the digital age!
Go to the "Buy CDs" page for the iTunes link.

When I was in high school, I studied karate. Because of that, I became very interested in all things Japanese. Tea ceremonies, zen, meditation, etc. One day, at the checkout of the grocery store, I think, I found a book called “The Zen of Base and Ball.” It was a picture book, actually, that showed baseball players as Japanese samurai, with pithy inspirational words of wisdom (so I thought). When I showed the book to my sensei, he smiled as he read through it, and (very gently, as I recall) told me that the book was supposed to be funny, kind of poking fun at the whole Asian enlightenment craze of that time. I was taking myself, and what was important to me, too seriously.
To this day, I tend to do that—take myself and what is important to me too seriously. It is part of my personality. But I know I would better serve myself if I could learn to laugh at the serious stuff a little more. Including music. If I get too full of myself in the music-making process, I lose the lightness of what music is ultimately about. Somehow, there needs to be a little detachment, even in the midst of bearing our souls and hearts through sound.

I just finished a little exercise in my driveway, shooting some hoops. I’ve always enjoyed doing that—not so much playing a game of basketball as much as just shooting hoops on my own. I have one of those driveway setups, a pretty decent one, that lets me walk out and get the heart going a little. While I was doing that, I noticed some similarities between that process and the process of music-making.
I wrote in a previous entry of the discipline required in music. When I shoot hoops, I may not have the same discipline, but I do notice some things. When I am “in the pocket” playing, things are smooth and effortless. Baskets made are very satisfying “swishes”, and there is a grace and dance to my movements. Unfortunately, those moments are short-lived and followed by many moments of clumsiness. But it did make me think that good athletes, like good musicians, must “play” at perfecting not just the craft of what they do, but the art of the transitions that make things move smoothly. In music, it is often the silence between the notes that makes the music. In basketball (in my untrained observer’s opinion) it is the same. When I focus on dribbling well, handling the ball well, and my placement and setup before the shot, the shot tends to go better. I’m sure when I get to that place where I am not thinking of those things, things will go better still. We practice long tones to have what we need to move from one note to the next.

Musicians will tell you that inspiration for their music comes in many forms. It also tends to come when it feels like it (a real life lesson for anyone there). As I've pointed out elsewhere on this website, I often receive pieces in meditation, or sitting with the Tall Ones, or as I am just playing around on an instrument. Sometimes, too, significant events can bring music to me. The other day, it was a combination of playing on my low shakuhachi, and a recent event, that brought a piece.
Recently, I was fortunate to witness a sea turtle hatching. My wife and I had been sitting at a nest on Topsail Island (a Sea Turtle Sanctuary) a few nights in a row. The turtles were due to hatch (they were really due to hatch anytime around 45-90 days; we were there day 58 or so). There was no activity the nights we were there, and we couldn't make it the following few nights. Then on Tuesday we received a call from the Nest Director telling us it would be that night. We arrived at the site, already crowded with interested spectators and volunteers, at about 8:15. The hatching started in less than an hour, with the small (the size of a half dollar) hatchlings making their way out and down to the sea. Because the mother had traveled a ways inland to nest, these hatchlings had quite a journey to the ocean. To help them find their way (it's easy for them to be confused by even the dimmest lights of the street or houses behind them) my wife got to play the Moon, holding a flashlight as she stood in the water. I helped keep an eye on the young turtles as they made their way down to the ocean. There were a few times when I gently picked one up to point her in the right direction. It was an incredible experience for all of us, as we acted as caretakers for these young turtles, and for the process.
As I was playing my shakuhachi yesterday, I held the intention of honoring that experience and those young turtles, and "Turtle Moon" was created. It may change slightly as I continue to play with it, but the basic flesh and bones are in place.

As I mentioned in my previous journal entry, there are some animals who produce ultrasonic frequencies. There are also some animals (and insects, etc.) who produce frequencies below our human range of hearing. The lowest sound we can detect is at 20Hz (Hertz). Elephants create sounds below that. They produce sounds that carry for miles through the ground. Elephants “listen” to the sounds of their distant neighbors through their feet. In fact, that’s how it was discovered that elephants were up to some funny business—a scientist noticed a group of elephants rocking on their feet at certain times, cocking their heads forward as if listening. Through the magic of technology, the sounds the elephants made were recorded and brought up in pitch, so they were in the human range of hearing. That’s quite a thing, but I’m sure that transposing those sounds, though it allows us to hear them, drastically changes the energy and impact they have on us (again, at the cellular level).
There are some sound scientists (there’s a technical term for them, but I don’t remember it right now) who have even created subsonic sounds and used them as part of a performance, polling the audience members after to elicit reactions. Though audience members were not able to hear the sounds, and, indeed, did not even know they were being created, many of them talked about a strange feeling of unease at certain points during the performance. Vibrations affect us, even when we can’t detect them with our ears. What else is going on around us that has an impact on us?

There are some animals who are able to create sounds that are incredibly high-pitched, well above our human range of hearing. It is somewhat humbling to realize that we humans do not have all-encompassing hearing and sound-making abilities. Bats, dolphins, and whales are a few fellow beings who communicate, echolocate, and sing in the sonic stratosphere. There are some scientists who are even thinking that bats are able to “bend time” with their sonaric feats.
Though we humans can’t come close to the vocal abilities of these ultrasonic singers, there are some cultures that do explore the high end of human singing. Some Tibetan monks and Mongolians, among others, practice “throat singing”, creating low-pitched sounds, but modifying their vocalizations so they produce high harmonic tones, as well. In addition to those high tones, I wonder if they aren’t also producing some pitches that are above our range of hearing, but still beneficial to us. Because I believe our very cells respond to sound, (and I’m not alone in that thought) I also believe sounds that we can’t even hear can have either a positive or negative impact on us. Government-funded scientific study, anyone?

We live in the “American Idol” age of music. One of my challenges in teaching young people music is dealing with the pervasiveness of that syndrome. What we see on television and in the movies tends to support the idea that singing and music making are an instant process. “School of Rock”, though a great movie, leads us to believe that students who have never played together, or never played at all, can create original music and put together a concert-level performance in just a few weeks. The change that happens to the choir in “Sister Act”, under the direction of Whoopi Goldberg’s character, is certainly miraculous. I’m not saying these things are not possible; I’m just saying a more realistic view would show many, many hours of diligent practice, individually, and as a group. The discipline and dedication needed to really honor the process of music making, no matter what the style, is not the stuff of movies. Because it would be a boring thing to watch. As I tell my students, anything worthwhile takes effort. And music, because it is so worthwhile, takes that much more effort, in order to create something that seems natural, inspired, and effortless.

In the last journal entry, I offered a meditation practice involving the creation of vocal sounds. If you have tried that practice a few times, play with this extension:
Once you’ve completed your vowel sound making, once you have done some sitting in silence, breathing fully, gently, and slowly, bring your attention to your ears. Not to the outside of your ears, but to the inside. Notice if you hear anything as you focus on your inner ears. You might hear an ocean sound, or a higher-pitched hum. If you sit with this for some time and don’t hear anything, try blocking your ears with your fingers, to see if you can hear that way. If you hear something, slowly release your fingers from your ears. You might then be able to continue hearing whatever sound is the inner sound of the day. Once you’ve done this enough times to feel you can easily hear the sound of the day (because it can be different, depending on the day) try listening both before you make your vowel sounds, and then after you make your vowel sounds. Take note of any differences in what you hear before and after. You can also try listening for sounds (or feeling for vibrations) like your heartbeat, or your pulse…noticing the symphony of sounds your body is creating that day.

Our world is so fast-paced and noisy that we often miss some things that can help us connect to ourselves. Some people like to meditate, using one or more tools to do so. In these journal entries, I’ve mentioned some of the ways sound and music can be used as a tool for stillness. I think sound making cultivates a much-needed practice of bringing our full attention to a process, to ourselves. You don’t have to be a musician to do this. Here is something you might try:
Find a quiet place where you can sit comfortably. Take a few slow, full breaths to breathe in energy and breathe out any tension. As you continue breathing, let your breaths come in and out lower in your body. Feel like you are doing belly breaths—this is how you breathed when you were a baby, before the tensions of life brought your breath up higher. These belly breaths are the breaths of contentment. Feel yourself finding them again. When you feel ready, on the exhale of your next breath, tone the vowel sound “Ah.” Let this gentle sound be wherever it feels comfortable for you—high or low, loud or soft. Keep the sound going for the length of your exhale (without forcing). Let yourself make the sound without judgment about the tone, or the wobbliness, or the squeakiness. Continue creating “ah” sounds on each exhale. If the sound changes as you do this practice, go with it. If you find yourself toning higher or lower, or louder or softer, go with that. Give yourself over to the sound, and continue for as long as you like. When you have finished making sounds, sit in silence for a few moments, returning to your gentle breathing. Notice how you feel after this sound practice.
When you’re doing this practice, you can stay with the “ah” sound, or try different vowels—whatever feels right for you. Trust in the process, and in yourself, and enjoy the benefits of sound making as meditation.

Some of my music uses “vocables.” Vocables are vocal sounds that at first might seem to have no meaning. The meaning is there, just in a different way. Vocables might be created just for the “sound of it”, because the vowel sounds feel good, and sound right in the piece. I say vowel sounds because that is primarily what these sounds tend to be. Actually, all vocal sounds find their energy and meaning in the vowel sounds. The consonants are certainly important, but it is the vowels that carry the true sense of the sound.
Vocables can also be sounds that are tapped into, kind of a collective unconsciousness of sound that the performer dives into and retrieves. Some cultures believe these sounds are an ancient subconscious language that the performer rediscovers, and that performer and listener both can connect in an intuitive way to the sense of the language through the sounds that are sung.
So if you hear some “words” that sound foreign, just let them flow over and through you, and notice what feelings, images, or ideas come to you. Trust that whatever feels right to you is the sense of the sound for you. This might not be a verbal experience—more than likely it won’t be. Allow vocables to transcend your usual way of absorbing sounds, and transport you to another place of understanding.

On the Music Clips Page, there is a new clip I am offering as a free download, a new piece composed for shakuhachi flute. It's not a holiday piece, but it is offered in the spirit of the holidays. I believe it has a peaceful, meditative quality that compliments this season of reflection.
Since completing “Earth Medicine”, I have found myself composing short pieces for shakuhachi (6 are written so far). These are 2:30 to 3:30 in length. I find they come from my practice—when a musical idea I create catches my ear, I follow through with it, creating a short piece. Usually, it’s done in one or two sittings. This is quite a contrast to the process of "Earth Medicine", which I (lovingly) labored with for over 5 years. Even the recording is "low-key"--recorded in my apartment.
This study in contrasts is a perfect expression of creativity—the completion of a large, complex work, with its own focus and energy, is followed by a shorter, less intense (but still creative and artistic) process.
Thus music-making follows the rhythms and patterns of life.
I hope you enjoy Shakuhachi Piece No. 4, and that it helps honor this season, when seeds lie dormant under the snow, awaiting the coming of Spring.

Silence is an important part of music. If anyone out there knows of a music practice that does not honor silence as an integral and necessary component, please let me know. I don’t think such music can exist. That doesn’t mean all music must be slow, with lots of space between sounds. Some music honors silence in that way, but it’s more about the balance between sound and silence than it is about the amount of silence that happens. A light-speed saxophone solo will still make use of silence to create phrases and punctuate ideas, even if those moments of silence are short ones. My music tends to be slower, holding sounds, pausing for the delicious taste of the silence between those sounds, then exploring the next sonic frontier that is the new sound. I’ve heard of a number of novelists who speak of “stringing pearls” together—being in that state between consciousness and unconsciousness (I would call it an Alpha state) where ideas come together like pearls on a necklace. When I play, I am stringing together pearls of sound. The silence between the sounds is the string that holds the pearls, as important to the necklace as the pearls themselves.

I have been playing the shakuhachi for less than a year, but it feels like I’ve been playing it my whole life. Each time I create sounds on that instrument, I feel like I’ve come home. As I learn more about the sounds the shakuhachi wants to make, I discover more and more that those are the sounds I have been drawn to and trying to create all these many years I have been playing wind instruments. It is also an instrument that supports what I have always loved to do—to play sounds. I love to stay with a single note and feel its vibration, connect to the initial breath, the beginning of the sound, its life, and the way that it then dies, either suddenly, or (more typical of shakuhachi playing) gradually fading away to a whisper. Each note becomes a little universe in itself, a vibrational experience that mirrors my day, my mood, the degree of stillness I am able to bring to my practice.

Sound-making is a beautiful balance between sound and silence, high and low, loud and soft, long and short…a real expression of the balance of opposites in life. And yet it is not about forcing those things. It’s more about creating space in your playing (what a great use of that word!) to listen for what is already there. Even when it comes to the sounds the instrument you are playing wants to make (including your voice). My friend and fellow musician, Mike Clarke told me many years ago about the proper way to choose a cymbal. You don’t just hit it to make sounds on it and decide if you like it. The process of “choosing” a cymbal really is more one of creating a relationship with the instrument. Approaching each cymbal to discover the sound that is inherent in the instrument itself; the sound that particular cymbal wants to make. In music and in life, it is about creating space (silence) to feel and listen for what is already there, and bringing it forward.

My mother tells me I used to throw terrible tantrums as a child. She also says those tantrums stopped once I started taking clarinet lessons. It would be easy to chalk this up to one of the many extra-musical benefits of music...developing self-esteem, developing socialization skills, etc. I take a different viewpoint of the impact music had on me as a 10-year old clarinet player-- I think I was in desperate need of a way to express myself, and found that release with the clarinet. I also believe there is such a need to create positive vibrations in life that we will all throw some kind of tantrum if we don't get to do it.
As an adult, I no longer throw tantrums, but I get pretty cranky when I haven't had a daily dose of music-making. My wife tells me I look different after I play my shakuhachi for 10 or 20 minutes. I know I feel different.
I hope my music creates a feeling of "ahhh" for my listeners, that it provides a place of stillness and helps them find their center in the midst of a busy, hectic day.