Balancing to the Music

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This balance between repetition and variation (new information) is what turns sound into music. …A great musician is a master of balance, of equilibrium; he/she knows when to add something new, when to create tension, and when to give us the predictable and let us feel at home.
 ~ajrdileva, "Music Balance (Repetition vs Variation Culture)"

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A mini highlight in my week was discovering a new song for my balance playlist. Yes, of course I have a playlist just for songs I balance to. Plugging in my headphones, stepping off the ground, and fitting my movements and my soul into the rhythm of the music and the sway of my slackline is incredibly satisfying.

I’m pretty picky about what I listen to when I’m balancing (hence the playlist). Given that I generally walk slowly, and focus on subtle, controlled movements, it's understandable that people assume I listen to mellow instrumentals. That is not the case however; almost everything on my playlist has vocals (lyrics I connect with), and an upbeat tempo. The songs on the list span several genres: musical soundtracks, pop/rock, country, and Christian contemporary.

Confession: I’m a nerd. After discovering my new song (I will get to that…eventually) and deciding to write this post, I wondered what made songs "right" for balancing.  I couldn't articulate anything concrete beyond vocals and a decent tempo, so I decided to see if Pandora could help me out. I created a station based off of my playlist songs, and when Pandora chose something I liked, I’d check the “Why was this track selected?”

Pandora was baffled by my mix. The genres identified were: hip-hop, electronica, blues, rock, disco, folk, country, and gospel, as well as cross-overs between the genres. The musical qualities were contradictory: syncopated or unsyncopated, repetitive or varying, acoustic  or synthesized, major key or minor key, melodic or harmonic, etc. Pandora started adding "…and many other features identified by the music genome project."

Well, it was worth a shot. Without a precise analysis or explanation of my musical preferences, I’m just going to assume that I've settled on some incredibly appropriate balance of sometimes contradictory musical qualities. That is, after all, what great music is all about according to ajrdileva who so kindly provided the header quote for this post.

In addition to the rank and file songs on my playlist there are also the "premier" songs: songs that have the appropriate (if ambiguous) balance of musical qualities, have lyrics I connect with, and are thematically appropriate to the activity. Idina Menzel’s "Defying Gravity" from Wicked was the first to make the premier list. Next was "Firework" by Katy Perry (partly in honor of the scene from Madagascar III where I first heard the song).

This week’s song to make the premier list is "Don’t Look Down" from the TV show Austin & Ally (which I've never actually watched). If you don’t know the song, below are an abbreviated version of the lyrics and a link to the song online—you’ll have no trouble seeing (or hearing) why it made the premier list:

"Don't Look Down"
Sung by Laura Marano and Ross Lynch

I’m walking on a thin line
And my hands are tied
Got nowhere to hide
I’m standing at a crossroads
Don’t know where to go
Feeling so exposed  

Yeah I'm caught In between
Where I'm going and where I've been
But no,
There's no turning back  

It’s like I’m balanced on the edge,
It’s like I’m hanging by a thread,
But I’m still gonna push ahead
So I tell myself
Yeah, I tell myself  

Don’t look down, down, down, down
Don’t look down, down, down, down
…

It's a good song.

After that rather lame conclusion sentence, I spent hours deciding what to write next, because, honestly, adding a third song to the premier list made another theme evident: I'm drawn to songs about inner greatness, impressive individuality...and (overcoming) self-doubt. The audacity to aspire to a grand spotlight seems somehow presumptuous, and realizing anew—and highlighting in writing yet again—how pervasive my self-doubts are makes me feel uncomfortably vulnerable.  I generally wait to post until I can wrap up in an inspiring way, but I discovered this song this week, and it might be months or years before my feelings of being "caught in between where I'm going and where I've been" are safely, and inspiringly, in the past.

So I decided to take a risk, be vulnerable, and not wrap up my post with a clear and tidy sense of victory. For this week I'll be glad that I discovered a new song and, in the process, learned about balance in music. Music has a way of speaking to how we feel, so I guess if I sway and bounce and step to a beat that reflects my hopes and my fears, that's no bad way to push ahead.  I'll learn to defy gravity, let loose the fireworks in my soul, and balance on the edge—in time.

Niagara on a Tightrope

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Daredevils, lunatics, call them what you will; there’s one thing that unites those folks who attempted the tightrope-walking or barrel-riding stunts…an irrepressible urge to stand out from the crowd. Niagara Falls was their stage, and they intended to fill the show with rapturous applause, even if it meant bringing the curtain down for the final time.
~ Karl Fabricius

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Niagara Falls is an iconic landmark and natural wonder, one that I've wanted to see for a while. This past weekend I had the chance to visit for the first time. While the falls are a draw in and of themselves, there was also a bubble of joy in my heart that I carried quietly through the weekend because of Niagara'a significance in the history of wire walking and also its association with the storybook Mirette on the High Wire—the book that started it all.

Henry Bellini with Niagara in the background

People are generally more familiar with the Niagara barrel stunts of the 20th century than the wire walkers of the 19th, but in their time the wire daredevil performances were every bit as popular—possibly more so because they were legal (advertisable and marketable) spectacles. Niagara was a popular summer resort for the wealthy; whole families with servants in tow would “summer” at the luxury hotels lining Niagara gorge. For the wire performances, the bridge and grandstands were full of men in top hats, women with parasols, and little girls clinging to the skirts of their nurses; bands on both sides of the rivers added accompaniment, and once safely across, the performer might be driven in a carriage with four horses up to one of the hotels for refreshment before making the return trip.

Maria Spelterini, the only female Niagara wirewalker,
pictured here with peach baskets on her feet

At least eight wire walkers performed crossings of the Niagara gorge between 1859 and 1896. Never content with simply crossing safely the 1,000+ foot span nearly 200 feet over rocks and torrents, these performers added headstands, somersaults, sprinted across in 2 minutes, cooked themselves breakfast, did laundry in an old fashioned wash tub, climbed down to the Maid of the Mist and then back up, pushed wheelbarrows, walked blindfolded, and wore baskets instead of shoes.

Incredibly, in the history of the Niagara wire-walkers, there was only ever one fatality and it was an after-hours fatality at that: crossing in the dark, drunk, wearing street shoes, with no known spectators made Stephen Peer’s demise almost anti-climactic. By the time Niagara officials banned unauthorized stunting in 1884 and began refusing authorization in 1896, the crowds coming to view the wire-walkers were dwindling. The wire-walkers with their daring and drive had perhaps done their job too well: the crowds pretty well assumed a successful crossing and no longer watched with bated breath (or aggressively bet on the outcome).

Two years ago, after a 116 year hiatus, the Falls were once again graced by the presence of a wire-walker. Nik Wallenda, heir of a five-generation wire walking legacy, received approval—after several years of petitions and negotiations—to string his wire across the Niagara. It was a momentous comeback, especially because, for the first time ever, a wire-walker would be walking over the Horseshoe Falls rather than “merely” across the gorge just downstream from the falls. It would also be one of the longest walks in the region: 1,800 feet, topping previous records by 300 feet.

 

The dark of night made for a stunning contrast with the illuminated mist and falling water of his crossing. I'm certain the crowds lining the gorge were every bit as breathless as those that had come to see Blondin.


When I first read the children’s storybook Mirette on the High Wire and fell in love with wire walking, I didn't have any actual experience with wire walking and frankly believed that the reputed accomplishments of the fictional mentor wire-walker Bellini were just that—fictional tall-tale feats attributed to a purely fictional character. Well, doesn't crossing Niagara AND stopping in the middle to cook an omelet sound a bit far fetched?

Illustration from Mirette on the Highwire

You can imagine how delighted I was when I discovered that the exploits of the fictional Bellini were based on the actual accomplishments of Jean Francois Gravalet, known as "Blondin," one of the greats in wire-walking history and the first to cross the Niagara gorge.  Then just recently as I prepared for my trip (by researching lesser-known Niagara wire walkers specifically), I was elated to discover that there actually had been a Niagara wire-walker who went by the name of Bellini. My childhood fantasy was actually history—or at least solidly based in history.

With its storybook associations and rich non-fictional heritage of wire walking, Niagara was a wonderful place to visit. I passed a plaque marking the site of the old suspension bridge next to which many of the old-time wire walkers stretched their cables. I stood on Terrapin Point on Goat Island where Nik Wallenda began his walk. While viewing the grand spectacle of the falls, my eyes would often wander to scan the gorge, imagining a wire stretched taut across. Looking at the dizzying drops and rushing water and imagining what it might be like walking in the midst of the nothingness above made my stomach churn in miniature imitation of the water below.

An important stop for me on the trip was the monument to Nik Wallenda’s crossing, complete with a section of the actual wire he used. After only a glimpse of the monument's unveiling in an online news article, I immediately wondered if the boulder was climbable, if the wire mounting was appropriately weight bearing, and if I’d get arrested for desecrating a monument—because of course I wanted to walk where Nik Wallenda walked.

A picture of Wallenda balancing on top of his monument found a bit later in my internet surfing was the clincher, resolving at least two of my three concerns, and so on a sunny Monday morning I tried it out myself with the sunlit mists of the falls behind me as I stood on a wire that had crossed through those very mists supporting a lone man across the chasm.

To stand where great men have stood and remember their accomplishments is a rewarding experience for the ambitious. Having seen the falls, I better understood why wire-walkers were drawn to this location; I also understood the desire to stand out on this beautiful natural stage. I wanted my turn balancing with grand curtains of falling water as my backdrop, and I'm always craving a balance challenge. Highwires may be banned, but handrails are plentiful, so this second ambition was also fairly easy to fulfill…I just had to choose a rail not on the edge of the gorge.

A gorgeous sunset, a beautiful backdrop, and a balance challenge, it was a perfect moment.