Music

I’m an ‘outside in’ musician. Before I ever played, I fell in love with music. I soaked it up. I had freed music from it’s external abode so it could come out of me.

I love all sorts of music. One of my favorite past times is sitting at the computer, doing work (or playing around,) and having my musical library on random. Hard to soft, classical to eclectic, jazz to metal. It is all vital. It is all good.

There isn’t a musical genre I dislike. Sure, I have favorites. There are categories which are sparse, or even non-existent. But I have yet to hear a genre which repelled my sensibilities categorically. I understand there is music designed to do just that, but I often love it for that very reason.

I relate to the world in musical terms. There are chords, chord changes, varying rhythms and textures. Some of it is intense and in your face. Other parts are barely discernible, and go by unnoticed. With life you can’t just back it up and hear it again. You snooze you lose. If you don’t appreciate life as it happens, you can’t go back. The music keeps moving.

Some life is dissonant. Minor chords abound. Simplicity is often best, and most beautiful.

But it is really about the truth of music. It can’t be nailed down. You can’t ‘freeze frame’ music. Music is motion. Life is motion.

The best parts of life are appreciated by few people. Popular life is BS. Many people will claim to enjoy things, but few people understand the things they claim to enjoy. Truth, though hidden right in the fabric, can often deceive.

Here’s my secret admission: I enjoy having access to multiple audio sources. In the privacy of my own little office, I will start 6 pieces of music simultaneously. I then limit the scope of music to a single elongated song, in some cases, or set timers in others. The random music from the computer would be the constant, and one final musical piece will prevail as the soul source – – after about a half hour. 6 becomes 5, then 4, 3, 2… those two would mix for a while until the lone musical number will play out in what suddenly seems an immensely structured form, regardless of genre.

Music needs to breathe. I find ‘stuffing up music’s congestive cracks’ to be an enjoyable mental exercise, and one that no two people would hear the same way. As it finally pairs down to a single piece, music is once again allowed to breathe. Like the allergies which give us headaches from our inability to breathe, the lone piece becomes a breath of fresh air.

(So is silence.)

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