It would
appear that the Pirahã Indians of Brazil have no future. Could this be on account of the
relentless progress of ‘civilisation’? Quite possibly: but the Pirahã are futureless also in the sense that
their language contains no future tense and, consequently, they live their
lives from day-to-day. Or is it the other way round? Does the way they live determine
their language? But that is a question beloved of Whorfians and the like,
people who study Linguistic Relativity. It’s not so relevant if you are content,
as are the Pirahã, to exist in the present.
How I envy
them right now when the pressure is on me to face up to the future in the form
of the nine-day programme of gigs which is the Manchester Jazz Festival. My
dilemma is one of forward-planning and I am feeling overwhelmed by the number
and variety of performances on offer; the fear of picking the worst ones and of
missing the best; the anxiety of timetabling my life so as to weave its mundane
events into the Festival; the question of whether or not to book tickets in
advance and the reluctance to recommend gigs to friends and risk being
responsible should they come away disappointed.
My anxieties
obviously threaten to spoil my enjoyment of the music - besides which jazz is a
fluid and freeform affair so it feels counter-intuitive to have to plan
minutely for the pleasure. But I ought to have no problem with thinking ahead
since our complex language provides us with just the grammatical tenses we need
for such thought processing. We know, for example, that the Jazz Kings are
scheduled in the programme for Wednesday. We might say, therefore, that they will perform on Wednesday. We might also
say that they will be performing on
Wednesday or we might say they are
performing on Wednesday – in which case is it Wednesday already? Perhaps the
application of Linguistic Relativity theories is not going to be as helpful as
I had hoped.
Tempted by
advertising and hype I also considered whether attending another kind of festival
might be a good idea. The ones which appeal to me are multi-cultural and
include music, literature, film, food etc. all compressed into a long weekend.
On reflection, however, given so much choice and so little time I suspect my anxieties
would be compounded to the point of panic, my decision-making facility would
seize up completely and my entrance fee would have been wasted.
It wasn’t
always like this. My first experience of music festivals was relaxed, unplanned
and free-wheeling. I am reminded of this by a photo of a girlfriend and me on a
ferry bound for the Isle of Wight circa 1970. She wore platform shoes, a
mini-skirt, a summer blouse and a straw hat. I wore plimsolls, jeans, flowery
shirt and a thin nylon jacket. We had no other clothing, no tent – nor even an
overnight bag (although we did have a couple of grams of Afghan Black which
proved to be a tradable commodity when seeking accommodation). Otherwise our
approach was very Pirahã, very ‘in the moment’.
I’m not sure
what happened to change all that. Certainly the music festival concept has
evolved from its idealistic beginnings and has become more of a commercial
proposition: the simple, one-band-at-a-time schedules I once enjoyed are not
the best format for maximising profit. Simultaneous
multi-stage complexity is the new norm and forethought is essential if you want
to get the most out of your festival experience. But I can’t help thinking that
the Pirahã are on to something and if there was no future then I wouldn’t be so tense.
Have you seen "Nostalgia for the LIght"? Apparently, only the past exists.
ReplyDeleteNow that would really complicate my dilemma...
ReplyDelete