These days, we're pummeled with sights, sounds and information. Our senses need a rest. Sometimes the clamor becomes too much for us, and we sit in silence. But more often than not, for peace of mind, we turn to tunes.
Melody, harmony, rhythm, tempo - sound waves blaring from headphones can cause a rush that must rival the feeling a heroin addict gets when the skag hits the blood.
I've written before of my music junkie status, but this phenomenon is not limited to those of us who compulsively peruse used record bins. No, just about everybody knows the elation that comes from sliding a classic album or a mix CD of favorite tunes into the stereo.
We obsessively quote popular music in our journals and our away messages - it even seeps into our colloquial speech. Think of the innumerable references to What's cooler than being cool? and Shake it like a Polaroid picture last fall, or that flannel-clad fellow from your dorm freshman year, who stuck a sign on his door with the simple mantra All in all is all we are.
We're looking for something in music, even those of us who don't care for lyrics. Although I'd wager we don't realize it, we look for comfort and insight, for truth. If nothing else, we seek to relieve stress by belting out the Four Tops' Reach Out (I'll Be There) in the safe confines of the driver's seat.
Often we turn to music for an escape from the real world. We dance. We press the accelerator. Or we relax. Sometimes, the effect is cinematic; we get wrapped up in songs like four-minute movies. We join our friends in shouting the ridiculous chorus of Undone (The Sweater Song) by Weezer.
So music helps us to forget about life. But, more importantly, it helps us to remember.
Any music that becomes significant in our lives, even against our will (heeeey Macarena!), kindles a memory of an era, an event, sometimes a precisely specific moment. For me, Pantera will always make me recall 8th grade, when I learned how to play heavy metal guitar in James Falkoff's basement. Red Hot Chili Peppers and Sublime, oddly enough, remind me of lying on my bed in 9th grade figuring out my geometry homework. (Even stranger is that it's a happy memory. I'm a bit of a dork.) Listening to Radiohead's OK Computer transports me to Virginia Beach and a glorious respite from school on the jazz band trip. And any track from Dr. Dre's 2001 reminds me of going sledding at Hoover Reservoir on a snow day.
Despite my excessive references to its drug-like qualities, music doesn't have to distort reality. (I hesitate to call it food because it isn't necessary for life - is it?) Yes, sound can be a purifier. One of my favorite adjectives album reviewers overuse is cathartic
which means cleansing. That's important: Music doesn't have to be a smokescreen on reality - it can be a bath.
I believe God speaks through music, even music that has nothing to do with God. That's not to say there are no pedestrian musical experiences, when singing along is just fun or when it's nice to circulate some pleasant noise in one ear and out the other. But there are moments when a song hits us hard, whether through a fabulously phrased lyric or a dynamic crescendo, and we see the world in a new way.
In all of this banter, you may get the idea that I am elevating music's importance in our lives. And I know this: Life is not about music. Life is about people. Relationships are important. Smiles, tears, friendship, loss, overcoming obstacles, betrayal, love - these are the building blocks of the human experience. Songs only have significance if we give it to them. And we do. Why? Life's not about music, but music is about life. 17
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Chris DeVille
