A break from the norm

Normally, my mind seems to be stimulated by ugliness and the lower strata of society. The dregs usually appeal to me in a can't-not-watch-a-car-wreck kind of way. I am here this lovely a.m., however, to consider beauty. (Yes, Dave, I know.)

You know that moment when you first see a work of art, or a person, or whatever, and you feel like you've been sucker-punched from the sheer beauty of the whatever-you're-looking-at. Turn that into music, and I give you the concert I attended last night.

Yes, I'm a dork, but even I am rarely such moved by a handbell concert. Yes, they're fun, they're sometimes stodgy, and generally quite interesting, but this choir blew me away.

Cast of Bronze, the Dallas Community Handbell Choir (yes, they're volunteer), rang at McFarlin Methodist last night. They play 7 octaves of handbells (let's just say the smallest is a dog bell since it calls every dog, and the largest I could swim in...) and 7 octaves of handchimes (only 2 sets exist worldwide). The lowest chime was, oh, about the same height as I, and I was suitable impressed. Especially the first time that low C reverberated throughout the sanctuary. WHOA.

They played a Bill Payn piece, Commemeration of the Spirit, that was written as a memorial to a ringer who passed away. It told the story of her life, and started out with a barely discernable toll in the bass, built up to bells pealing, and faded back to a slow toll. By the end of the piece, I had goosebumps from head to toe, trying not to bawl my eyes out. Sucker-punched.