Sunday, August 2, 2009

There is only one way to listen to music.
I know that making such a statement will get me into trouble with all sorts of shady characters. Smart-ass kids who will say,
"Duh! With your ears!" And even smartier-assier kids who will say,
"Um, technically, if you are talking about being able to interpret sound waves, there are many ways in which..." And then there are the hipsters and old timers who will try to tell me about vinyl, and the joys of seeing music live. A few losers might even try to convince me that tapes are best,
"The commitment to the whole album!" Finally there is the Mp3,
"A whole wall of records fits into my pocket!"
So actually, I wouldn't make such a broad statement. Instead I will say,
"There is one way in which I love to listen to music-- it is better then all those ways you tried to tell me about."
I was riding my bike back to my aunt's house. It had been a hot day, and the air was still warm. I passed a house, and leaking out of it was drums, guitar, and bass. It sounded better then anything else.
Except for this other time.
My family and I were walking through the cold towards a restaurant and from across the street is music. The music sounded good, really good. My dad and I hung out on the street and danced while my mom went in and got us a table.

If music is art, and if art is about communicating a feeling, then there is no way to hear music more purely, then snooping on band practices. Band practice is where feelings are first taken out of the body and converted into songs. Walking past you get to hear a piece of this process.
Of course, there has to be magic too. The conversion of feeling to song has to be working. Everyone has to be in tune and in time, and you have to be there.
It doesn't always sound good; I've only included two examples of hearing bands practicing and it being amazing, and I know I've walked past way more band practices then that. But that's part of the magic: there is no expectation. When you put on a record, or go see a band you want something; you want to feel something. When you're walking in the night though, you're just walking in the night. There is no album to be committed to, no wall of records to force into your pocket; it's a just a moment, a feeling.

3 comments:

  1. why won't it let me do the indent thing? this is making me angry. these are paragraphs, danm it!

    ReplyDelete
  2. dude yesterday i spent like thirty minutes working with the formatting on my blog because it kept randomly making the font size 80 billion. in the end i just copied and pasted the whole text, deleted the old post, and then started anew.

    ReplyDelete
  3. fuck that shit, right?

    we need some microsoft word formatting, here.

    times new roman, twelve point, double spaced.

    ReplyDelete