The opening credits of BBC’s Arena programme are imprinted in the brain of (I’d reckon) most people who grew up in the UK between the 70s and the 90s. The theme tune was beguiling, aching, mysterious, meditative, mental, transcendental. So much so that the BBC would (reportedly) receive letters every week asking what this music was, and where could they buy it?
At 1 minute 42 seconds, the BBC Arena theme tune doesn’t ever outstay its welcome. It fades in, you start to really dig it, then it fades away before your brain is sated. So you end up playing it 4, 5, 6 maybe 7 times in a row – no exaggeration. Then something interesting happens. The last 10 seconds or so of the recording are mainly silence.
But crank the volume right up just as the music fades, and there’s something there, 2 or 3 seconds of – what – is it the end of this track or the start of another? It sounds too interesting to be an outro, but it’s more or less hidden, and so quiet that sometimes you think you only imagined it. And your brain can’t help but wonder – what is out there? What’s beyond the veil? Tout est vert tout d’un coup.
Here is a picture of a hill.