A Plea by Flea (Official Music Video)
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| Phalaenopsis Orchid—Still in Bloom |
In this jazz album, he produces a cool, crisp sound on the trumpet.
Thom Yorke of Radiohead also appears on a few tracks.
Apparently, the album *Honora* is named after Flea’s great-grandmother.
The album cover art features a portrait of his mother-in-law, Lady Shahin Badiyan. (From Wikipedia’s entry on *Honora*: https://w.wiki/MN6R)
My favorite track is “A Plea,” which was also released as a single.
Another one I like is *Maggot Brain*.
When I watched the video, it vaguely reminded me of Benetton’s ads from the 1980s.
I tried to organize my thoughts using the formula:
Advertisement = CINEMA / Music Video (MV) ex: 1/2
If we make the music video the denominator of the fraction, then films (visual works) will always fall within the category of music videos.
Music + Story (Message) + Video / Visuals = If we treat music as the common element in these components, there are also entities that consist solely of video or visuals.
In that case, silence would also be considered a form of sound.
In my post on perfect pitch, I wrote about people who possess the gift of having music play automatically in their heads.
Personally, I feel and think within that silence—in the realm that exists before sounds take on the form of phonetic symbols or words.
Rather than turning that into sound, I usually put it into words, but that means every word that emerges from that silence is, in essence, music.
So, is this poetry? Well, of course it isn’t.
Poetry, as I currently understand it, is something that, just by reading it, makes music begin to play in the silent part of the heart, or conjures up images and scenes that linger forever.
So, is poetry advertising?
If we plug this into the diagram above:
Is poetry the output resulting from substituting the silent part with language?
Or
Is poetry itself that silent part,
and is it a message—taken on as a form—that says, “This is what I felt at the very beginning, extracted from the silent part with as little error as possible”?
In that case, since the message must be linked to the advertisement with an “=” sign—and silence alone doesn’t constitute music—it follows that poetry is, after all, an advertisement.
However, this means that only silent advertisements are poetry; naturally, poetry does not originally come with music.
At the beginning of the music video, in the darkness, Flea performs an avant-garde dance—a form of butoh—dancing only what he feels in that moment, capturing the fleeting instant that can never be repeated.
Eventually, a light resembling electricity begins to flicker, a mirror appears, and a studio-like space is revealed.
When creating the music video, listening to the sound triggers something within the mind to begin dancing; eventually, the self watching this (the creator of the music video) suddenly passes by, initiating a “RUN”—an expression based on a real-life event in America—as a message.
I suppose the credits would read: “This music video represents what one individual felt and recalled upon listening to ‘A Plea.’
Is there a sense somewhere that, as someone who cannot create music, I feel a bit inferior when faced with it?
It seems to convey that music only fulfills its true function when there is someone to listen to it.
I felt as though my own journey of emotional response—one I undertake every time I listen to music—had finally been acknowledged.
It was as if I’d watched a magnificent film or begun a book that would never end.
Enveloped in a lingering afterimage of sheer contentment,
I found myself gazing out the window, savoring the bright late afternoon of May 5, 2026, as it existed in the world.











