The oldest principle in the ceremonial side of life is Say the black, do the red. Poets, politicians, priests, and publicists followed this rule.
Churches formalized it with a series of actions (red) to be performed by the priest and the people, with standard TUNES (black) accompanying each action. Mainline churches and megachurches have abandoned red and black. Music is performed on stage by professionals, who are usually “rock” “musicians” now. Audience participation is forbidden. Some pentecostals still do black and red in a much more lively way than the usual bored Roman priest.
Courts and parliaments, directly descended from churches, have their own black and red. Standing and sitting, entries and exits, oaths, call and response of jurors. The British version has more music. Oyez Oyez in courts, and Order Order in parliament.
Secular persuaders kept the musical part. Each brand had a SINGABLE bit of music, instantly recognizable and remembered forever. A good jingle holds up for a lifetime.
Red and black were integral parts of civilization for thousands of years. We’ve lost them in recent decades. Some brands still use their OLD jingles, written in the 40s or 50s. There are no new jingles.
Podcasts and broadcasts use standard meaningless backbeats, not meant to be singable, not meant to carry words. Politicians use industrial noise, described for some reason as “rock music”, probably because it’s a highly amplified recording of an earthquake breaking apart the geological strata. Each party has its own seismic recording, chosen solely for the party membership of the “musician” who made the noise.
Because all noisemakers are Democrats, the Repooflicans use Democrat noise to aggravate the other brand. This trick started with Rush, who grew up in the old traditions of radio and intentionally flipped pleasant memory into outrage.
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When did we lose the music? Probably with the arrival of the all-text web. We communicate by telegraph now, not by voice. Nobody sings now; all music is provided by professionals, who are mostly autotune robots.
The black and the red are still a necessary part of human life. I grew up secular without black and red, and didn’t know what I was missing. I’ve reinvented black and red in my own life, expanded and formalized during the sustained horror of Trump’s “virus” concentration camp. Every routine daily red has an accompanying black, some verbal and some musical, often to the tune of an old jingle.
My bedtime ritual is Romanesque. It goes along with a “mix” I’ve gradually assembled as the first piece in the bedtime playlist. The rest of the playlist is variable, bringing in new pieces to replace old ones that get boring.
Each step of the musical black has a standard red: checking the lights and doors and heaters, changing the pillowcase, arranging the blankets. The last part follows the tradition of evening prayers, discarding the discord of the external world and resonating with the rhythm of the universe.
Polistra's Mill 