Noam at large: Left speechless by a story with music and no words

She finally left the office and came down to Fed square where I was enjoying a glass of wine with a friend. I figured it was going to be okay - we're taking the tram home tonight and I don't have to drive. So there I was, just hanging off a glass of white wine, as one does. Chatting to a random MWF volunteer!

Then off to the Melbourne Recital Centre for tonight's keynote event: Ben Walsh's score to Shaun Tan's The Arrival. Strange that on the way to a gorgeous screening on a large screen, we had to make our way past a big screen in Fed Square showing news at high volume. Disconcerting. Grumpy making. But, then again, mustn't dwell on the negative.

At the Recital Centre, we filed in to our seats, lights down and then the musicians appeared one by one on the stage, dressed like immigrants from a time long gone. Images started to appear - the story began. Ben as a kind of narrator and guide with his back to us and - standing in front of his drum kit,. Simultaneously drumming, conducting, checking the screening. I think perhaps the right thing to say would be some wordless equivalent of miraculous and transcendent... these exquisite pictures of Tan's narrative, their depiction of the main character's experience of finding his way in an alien landscape... and as Tan said in his introduction, in this strange world we live in perhaps we're all immigrants. For an hour and a half we were transported. Then we were sent out into the night, with our spirits lifted, our hearts lighter. I hear that this event will be presented in Adelaide in a few weeks. If you can see it, be prepared for music that complements the wordless narrative of a master story teller. Even Miriam was quiet for a minute.

Miriam knows a few of the musician, e.g. - Sandy Evans, Lucian McGuiness, Matt Ottignon, and was happy to introduce me to them and to meet some of the others, like Eden Ottignon, Bobby Singh and Grant Arthur ... there were more but you know what she's like - taking notes when she shouldn't and forgetting to when notes would really be the thing to do... We had a bit of an adventure getting into the Green Room - when the bloke at the desk heard that a reporter wanted to go upstairs, he started nevously calling people and we had to laughingly (ha ha ha ha!!!) tell him that Miriam was friends with some of the musicians and that the 'reporter' was a garden gnome about 6 cm long... no, hang on, we didn't do that last bit. From where I was, in the handbag, snug in my sock, it was all a bit 'mumble, mumble, [insert self-deprecating giggle here]' and the when we had permission, it was up the stairs, I came out of the sock and the fun began. You know how Green Rooms can be...