New Stuff (well, stuff I didn’t know) 

Q: What do Freddie Mercury, evangelicals and a big cheeto have in common?

A: Glossolalia

 A definition: “Glossolalia consists of strings of syllables (and) made up of sounds… put together more or less haphazardly but emerging as word-like and sentence-like units”

Glossolalia is often conflated with ‘speaking in tongues’, but that’s too limiting a characterization, and it also carries weighty religious overtones. Glossolalia is sometimes used in music, and lately, the concept has cropped up in politics, especially with politicians who rely on ‘utterances approximating words and speech’ (gee, who does he mean?)

The phrase ‘speaking in tongues’ appears several times in the Bible (at least an approximation of the phrase does, since the Bible was not written in English). Nineteenth-century Mormons were often said to speak in tongues, terming it a “spiritual gift”. Glossolalia also became associated with Pentecostalism, and today infects the so-called evangelical movement. And I say ‘infects’ because it is, at its core, gibberish: another definition of “speaking in tongues” is the “fluid vocalizing of speech-like syllables that lack any readily comprehended meaning”. Glossolalia often has a rhythm, but it is idiosyncratic and open to many interpretations (i.e. without real meaning).

 That rhythm is often used in music. Scat singing is glossolalia, using the voice like an improvised instrument, vocalizing nonsense syllables and almost-words used in rhythm or counterpoint to musical instruments. It’s incorporated into more modern music, too. The Icelandic band Sigur Rós uses snippets of Icelandic words and “non-linguistic vocalizations”. Many musicians work with glossolalia, from Dead Can Dance through Cocteau Twins and Curawaka. If you’re not familiar with those examples, you almost certainly have heard Freddie Mercury in full glossolalia battle cry.  And hilariously, this little gem: John Lennon reverts to glossolalia when he forgets the lyrics during the famous rooftop version of “Don’t Let Me Down” (at the 2:18 mark).

Perhaps the most specific example of glossolalia in song is Adiemus, by Karl Jenkins, featuring Miriam Stockley. The ‘lyrics’, such as they are, rise and fall in choral waves, leaving a shimmering whole.

For all of its musical beauty, there’s a flip side: glossolalia in politics. Have you ever listened to a politician drone on about something and come to the sudden realization that while the words may have a certain rhythm, it’s actually gibberish? (There’s that word again). Here’s a fascinating article called Trump in conversation: textures of Glossolalia. It distills a typical Trump spew, replete with sidetracks, repeats, dead ends and contradictions, all in rhythmic cadence. (Trump’s “spiritual advisor” Paula White often speaks in tongues, which – again – is partially defined as a language unintelligible to the speaker, let alone listener). You hear other politicians sometimes skirting glossolalia, particularly those who seem to be in love with their own voices. (That’s a thing? Say no.)

Glossolalia swings from the ridiculous to the sublime and back again. For good mental health, you might want to stick with the artistry and ignore the gibberish.

 Tom New/Longbottom News