Viva Brighton Issue #39 May 2016

COLUMN
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Lizzie Enfield
Notes from North Village
Apparently the fastest selling show in this year’s festival
is Music for Dogs.
“I really don’t get this,” I say, scanning the Brighton
Festival brochure.
“It’s for dog people,” says fellow North Villager, with
an air of superiority which suggests: a) there is such
a thing as ‘a dog person’, b) I am not one and c) they
are, and are therefore somehow better.
I grew up with a succession of dogs I was very fond
of. I have friends with dogs: some are nice, some are
mad and bark a lot. I do not have a dog now because
I don’t feel the need for the loyalty of a fourlegged
friend, excuse to go for walks or want to be
tied to needing to ‘get home for the dog,’ having just
emerged from years of needing to get home for the
children. Plus there’s a danger I might start photographing
myself with the dog and posting the images
on social media. It happens.
So, for the record, I like dogs, just not the idea of
being defined by whether I own one or not.
And what exactly is ‘a dog person’ shorthand for?
Being kind and caring and looking after something?
Having a house big enough to contain more than
one? Whatever it is, who cares?
The programmers of this year’s festival, I guess.
Yup, (or should that be yap?), the show selling all the
tickets is music ‘specifically designed for the canine
ear, including frequencies audible only to dogs.’
It’s the brainchild of guest director Laurie Anderson,
who’s already taken it to Sydney and New York. It’s
the kind of novel idea you probably have to be Laurie
Anderson to turn into a reality. But she has and
it’s so popular with ‘dog people’ that the initial show
Illustration by Joda, jonydaga.weebly.com
sold out and a second has been added.
Brighton being Brighton, I know a couple of people
who have been asked to play in it. One was as
bemused as myself, both by the concept and by Ms
Anderson’s accent.
“Music for daawgs?” He wondered if this was New
York slang for jazz lovers.
“Dogs.”
“Ah!” He and I were left wondering if “daawgs”
wouldn’t rather be chasing a ball, chewing a bone or
playing with one of those squeaky toys, maybe with
other dogs and making squeaky-dog-toy jazz?
But I shall await the flood of images of beloved pets
in the Open Air Theatre, musing on the delights of
the 60 kHz Phrygian cadence and wondering if the
extra half octave, within a dog’s hearing range, augments
the augmented fourths or diminishes the diminished
sevenths? I shall imagine the dogs barking,
something along the lines of “What did you think
of that dodgy (excuse the pun) sus chord, Rover?”
And I shall start working on my pitch for next year’s
festival: Music for Fish. It’ll be on the beach and based
on the writings of da Vinci and Newton, both at the
forefront of underwater acoustic thinking. Fish people
and non-fish people welcome.
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