That’s the name of a documentary released in 2002, 1 Giant Leap. The brief description is a story about two musicians who had an idea to create a holistic artistic presentation with musicians, poets and artists from across the world, unifying our global language of art and music. Duncan Bridgeman and Jamie Catto travel the world, visiting all 5 continents, to over 50 locations for 7 months, recording and collecting musical bits, conversations about life, poetry and video and paint a story with it that at the time left me speechless. Today it leaves me breathless. I watched it again last night, and the true meaning of what those two had created under the magnifying glass of our current frame of mind became something so poignant I poured through video after video on YouTube watching all I could find until late.
We’ve all been touched by it. We’ve felt it in one form or another over the past few weeks, and months. Many of us have been moved to action by it, reaching out to those we’ve lost touch with, or doing what we can for those we’ve yet to meet. It, is our fear, our anger, our helplessness. We pour over the news daily, searching for any sign that things will start to get better, but we all know that it will never be the same again. Poised on the edge of a cliff, the entire world will jump at once, one giant leap into an unknown.
Recently a friend forwarded me the viral video of Playing for Change with Robbie Robertson and Ringo Star plus a host of other global musicians recording The Weight. I watched that in silent wonder, moved by the voices around the world that came together to create beauty. It reminded me of 1 Giant Leap, and the sheer scale of which those two visionary adventurers took this concept to. I had to watch it again, to feel once more that bewildering sense of acceptance and universal family. I pondered had they only known what was coming, would that have changed anything for them?
These two visited the most remote of places, recording humanity creating joy with anything they could. Bits of spiritual drumming, and haunting voices sent to the gods, rhythms that made no sense to my ear, layered with instruments that were exotic nameless to me. They took all of these pieces as if pigments squeezed onto a palette and painted an emotional portrait. Fluid and rich, mixing and blending until they gave us both the movie and the soundtrack like an offering for a later day. This is that later day.
This is my offering to you. If there is anything deep inside that needs to understand your anger, is searching for meaning or perhaps a bit of light, watch this or listen to this. Do it with the eyes and ears of one willing to accept that as we go through the devastation, something good will emerge, nameless today but sure to be universally connected in the not too distant future.
You can stream both the documentary and the soundtrack through YouTube. I also found the DVD to purchase on Amazon.