On Music, or How a Little Red iPod Changed My Life

I was recently discussing music with someone, and when I told him how fanatical I was about it, his natural assumption was that I must be a musician of some sort. Sadly, no, I do not sing, nor do I play any instruments (aside from some truly dreadful attempts at a rendition of “Faith” by George Michael during karaoke, and several equally unfortunate years of wasted piano lessons). I have, in all honesty, no musical ability whatsoever (aside from a strange penchant for memorizing lyrics). But music is almost as basic to my existence as air or water.

It sounds counterintuitive, but music and lyrics written by others enable me to express myself in a way that would otherwise be impossible. I find that when I try to put thoughts, emotions and feelings into words, something is always lost in the translation. It’s almost as if I am trying to speak another language without knowing the vocabulary. So I rely on music to do that for me. Music is my interpreter. It enables me to make sense of my thoughts and emotions; it gives me the tools to reconcile myself to my circumstances, whatever they may be. It gives me a connection to my past – memories that are often so transient and ephemeral that they are in danger of being lost forever in the impenetrable web of neurons and neurotransmitters that comprises my cerebrum.

Because of my obsession with music, people are often surprised to hear that I rarely go to concerts. In thinking about this, I guess it’s because music is a kind of solitary exercise for me, much like meditation or even prayer. I think music may be the closest I will ever come to any sort of true spirituality. Concerts are, in my reality, too often about pleasing crowds. Which is not to say that there aren’t occasions on which music raises a group of otherwise disconnected individuals to a newer level of awareness and understanding, - as those lucky enough to attend Woodstock or those whose religiosity makes a choir something holy can surely attest to. But I’m not a religious person and watersheds like Woodstock happen once in a lifetime, if we are that lucky.

So for me, right now, I’ll take my music from the earphones of the little red iPod nano my sister got me for Christmas. (Thanks H). Unless Tom Waits or Springsteen want to come over and give me a private concert; if you see them, let them know I’ll be waiting.