on music
|I wonder|
if many others in the world have quite the same relationship with music that I have. I know others greatly appreciate music. They listen to it and like some of it, love more and dislike the rest. I imagine they receive it like one watches a movie. You see (or hear) enjoy, are affected by it, and leave and perhaps it lingers with you for a while. Get’s stuck in your head. Maybe it even changes you a bit in some way or another. Other people hear music in their heads. It comes from them. It flows out of their minds and for a while they’re the only ones who can hear it, until they give it shape and texture and color and breath, personality and life. I am just the opposite, I think. I cannot even imagine what it would be like to create wholly new music because I am really just the summation of all the best songs I’ve ever heard. I come from them. They give me shape and texture, breath and life. They consume me, use me up, wear me out and start me over. I experience all music in essentially one of two ways. Either it captures me, arrests me. Or it doesn’t. Where that line is drawn is inexplicable. Without logic or explanation. I’ve liked a lot of music that hasn’t taken me over, and I usually forget it quite quickly. I will listen to other songs endlessly for weeks and weeks because without them, I cease to exist.
Today marks a musical transition. Just a few weeks ago I was in a season that craved the old and familiar. I needed the songs that have carved emotional riverbeds into my heart. The songs I can’t listen to unless I’m feeling their emotions, otherwise it’s like wearing someone else’s skin. But in this recent season, the rain fell heavy and hard and flooded the deep channels so long dry. The old songs washed over me, filled me up, told me how I felt and why and that it was terrible but yes, I am comforted. And I was. A little, at least. But now that I almost don’t need them anymore they’ve become tired. Like old clothes. You still love them. You’ll never get rid of them, but you no longer cherish the feel of their fabric against your skin. You forget to notice the unique shape, the particular way they fall and fold around you. They’re just clothes and you’re just wearing them. You’d like to put on something new for a change. I was a little musically bored. I needed something fresh. Like morning.
Today it found me. It landed in my dropbox and I pressed my hands over my mouth to keep from squealing in a crowded coffee shop. It had the potential to be either the best or the worst thing I’ve heard in a very long time. I had such high hopes, such great fears. It could be so great a disappointment…. I knew I should wait till I was finished with work since I’d want to give it my full attention (and I should also probably pay attention to what I was working on.) But I came to some relatively mindless task that could use background music so I gave it a try (which was, of course, a foolish choice.) I was lost by about second 0.05. Drowning. Blissfully drowning. It’s been a little while since a song took me over like that. (In fact, the last one was…well, never mind. It doesn’t matter now. “Behold I make all things new.”) I closed my eyes and hid my face to the window. I wished I was at home. I needed to be alone for something so intimate be happening to me. It was filling me up. I wanted to weep. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to stand perfectly still. I think I was frowning intensely with my eyebrows drawn, but I may just as likely have been grinning like an idiot. I wanted to dance. It was too much. It needed more space than I could offer. I was afraid it would seep out of me, break through my seams and spill onto the table, drip onto the floor, splash all over the people sitting near me. So I sat quietly, holding my breath until that first song ended. I turned it off quickly before it got worse (and by that, I of course mean better.)
Driving or walking is the best time for new music. You can pay as much attention to it as you need to, while also using your speed as the much-needed ventilation. If you sit still, the pressure builds up until your heart explodes. Today I found as many needless and useful excuses to walk or drive as I could. I’m still listening to it. I’m sitting still but I’m writing which is nearly as good as walking. This is new. This is carving new channels. Someday I’ll listen to this again and I will feel exactly like I feel right this second whether I want to feel that way or not. This will give shape to this next season of my life. It will give color and texture, breath and life. It will paint the landscape and build the sets, write the script and (of course) sing the soundtrack. It’s like a sunrise. I’ve never imagined “teen spirit” smelled all that good. This music smells like morning.
Oh. And here is the album. If you don’t believe in piracy then buy it, or listen to it once and delete it. As close to immortal as Justin Vernon(‘s voice) may be, there’s still a little room for human error. I don’t care for track 6 or 10. But “Perth” stops and restarts my heart within the first ten seconds every single time.
if many others in the world have quite the same relationship with music that I have. I know others greatly appreciate music. They listen to it and like some of it, love more and dislike the rest. I imagine they receive it like one watches a movie. You see (or hear) enjoy, are affected by it, and leave and perhaps it lingers with you for a while. Get’s stuck in your head. Maybe it even changes you a bit in some way or another. Other people hear music in their heads. It comes from them. It flows out of their minds and for a while they’re the only ones who can hear it, until they give it shape and texture and color and breath, personality and life. I am just the opposite, I think. I cannot even imagine what it would be like to create wholly new music because I am really just the summation of all the best songs I’ve ever heard. I come from them. They give me shape and texture, breath and life. They consume me, use me up, wear me out and start me over. I experience all music in essentially one of two ways. Either it captures me, arrests me. Or it doesn’t. Where that line is drawn is inexplicable. Without logic or explanation. I’ve liked a lot of music that hasn’t taken me over, and I usually forget it quite quickly. I will listen to other songs endlessly for weeks and weeks because without them, I cease to exist.
Today marks a musical transition. Just a few weeks ago I was in a season that craved the old and familiar. I needed the songs that have carved emotional riverbeds into my heart. The songs I can’t listen to unless I’m feeling their emotions, otherwise it’s like wearing someone else’s skin. But in this recent season, the rain fell heavy and hard and flooded the deep channels so long dry. The old songs washed over me, filled me up, told me how I felt and why and that it was terrible but yes, I am comforted. And I was. A little, at least. But now that I almost don’t need them anymore they’ve become tired. Like old clothes. You still love them. You’ll never get rid of them, but you no longer cherish the feel of their fabric against your skin. You forget to notice the unique shape, the particular way they fall and fold around you. They’re just clothes and you’re just wearing them. You’d like to put on something new for a change. I was a little musically bored. I needed something fresh. Like morning.
Today it found me. It landed in my dropbox and I pressed my hands over my mouth to keep from squealing in a crowded coffee shop. It had the potential to be either the best or the worst thing I’ve heard in a very long time. I had such high hopes, such great fears. It could be so great a disappointment…. I knew I should wait till I was finished with work since I’d want to give it my full attention (and I should also probably pay attention to what I was working on.) But I came to some relatively mindless task that could use background music so I gave it a try (which was, of course, a foolish choice.) I was lost by about second 0.05. Drowning. Blissfully drowning. It’s been a little while since a song took me over like that. (In fact, the last one was…well, never mind. It doesn’t matter now. “Behold I make all things new.”) I closed my eyes and hid my face to the window. I wished I was at home. I needed to be alone for something so intimate be happening to me. It was filling me up. I wanted to weep. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to stand perfectly still. I think I was frowning intensely with my eyebrows drawn, but I may just as likely have been grinning like an idiot. I wanted to dance. It was too much. It needed more space than I could offer. I was afraid it would seep out of me, break through my seams and spill onto the table, drip onto the floor, splash all over the people sitting near me. So I sat quietly, holding my breath until that first song ended. I turned it off quickly before it got worse (and by that, I of course mean better.)
Driving or walking is the best time for new music. You can pay as much attention to it as you need to, while also using your speed as the much-needed ventilation. If you sit still, the pressure builds up until your heart explodes. Today I found as many needless and useful excuses to walk or drive as I could. I’m still listening to it. I’m sitting still but I’m writing which is nearly as good as walking. This is new. This is carving new channels. Someday I’ll listen to this again and I will feel exactly like I feel right this second whether I want to feel that way or not. This will give shape to this next season of my life. It will give color and texture, breath and life. It will paint the landscape and build the sets, write the script and (of course) sing the soundtrack. It’s like a sunrise. I’ve never imagined “teen spirit” smelled all that good. This music smells like morning.
Oh. And here is the album. If you don’t believe in piracy then buy it, or listen to it once and delete it. As close to immortal as Justin Vernon(‘s voice) may be, there’s still a little room for human error. I don’t care for track 6 or 10. But “Perth” stops and restarts my heart within the first ten seconds every single time.