Music and Sri Lankans

The older I get, the more reflective I get. I spend time thinking about things and analysing the various aspects in my life, in my head and in those of the people who I love.

And one of the things I've come to accept, with a great deal of pleasure, is that music, with an emphasis on drum and drumming, is a thread that is about the width of an Autobahn, that runs constantly through my life.

Music.

Is music more important to the average Sri Lankan than to others?

I ask this because I've observed that I was brought up in an environment brimming with music. My musical cup overfloweth as it were, there were notes, chords and grooves dropping all over the floor. Occasionally I picked one up.

My parents have music as a thread in their lives. They're constantly listening to the stuff. If you were to pop round to their house now you would be sure to walk in, after you'd successfully explained that I had sent you, that I have a blog which they don't know about and that you're not a criminal, and you'd hear music blasting out. It could be anything from Chaka Demus and Pliers with that "Tease me" song, which they love, to the Ray Brown Trio playing its totally sublime version of Summertime with Jeff Hamilton on drums. Java, Theena if you haven't heard it please check it out, it's rather beautiful.

One of the many things I love about Sri Lanka is the street noise. You know the way you can be in the hills up country and you'll still hear that buzz, that constant blur of sound. One of my favourite places to stay in Kandy is the Hilltop Hotel. It's not a 5 star place, I'm not sure how many stars it has but it certainly has an atmosphere. I usually get a good night's sleep there, but get woken at some god awful early hour by the sound of the trains coming into the station, just opposite the hotel. Why they built that station so close to the hotel I'll never know.

From that point of waking I'll often lie in bed listening to the general hubbub of Kandy; the trains, the announcements at the station, the car horns horning incessantly, the rumble of traffic and all the various animal sounds from further up hill too. It's as if they are all combined to make some sort of symphony. Silence may be golden but this is frankincense, or maybe even Jean Paul Gaultier, it's that good.

Here in England we're used to silence. No horns, no diesel rumble, no animals and definitely no tannoy announcements in Sinhalese. Unless you're in Wembley of course. Or Tooting or Southall. We've got things you know, mad things like legislation about noise. Vehicles have to have silencers, there are laws about music at night and monkeys and certain other animals are banned in many areas.

There's hardly ever an occasion when I would prefer the option of silence to one of music. As a teenager I remember that I used to do my homework with music on, or rather not do my homework. But I could never concentrate with silence blasting out in the background. Even on days when I get a migraine, something that happens very infrequently as I've got older, I drive home heading to my bed with music on, just turned down a bit.

And I've noticed that music looks like a thread that not only runs through my life but also through many a Sri Lankan's life. There are so many Sri Lankans I know who share the attitude and feelings about sound. It's a constant soundtrack to their life too, they always have a CD on at home, a radio on in the car or a tune in their head.

What do you reckon? Is it a Sri Lankan characteristic or is it just the type of people I know?