What do Kanye West, Bjork, Puccini, Sheryl Crow, Stars, Saves The Day, and Jacques Brel all have in common (aside from obviously being musicians)?
Well, they all played a part in making my day. I won't get into the gory details of how frustrated, discouraged, and just plain uncomfortable I felt by the time I left work today to go on my typical Monday trek--driving to Fremont (30-50 min), taking the BART up to North Berkeley (55 min), PME rehearsal (2.5 hrs), waiting for the BART in the cold (15-20 min), BART ride down (55 min) and a sleepy and at times dangerous drive home (40 min). I always dread that drive home; by the time I get to Fremont it's about 11:30pm, I'm super-tired and rather chilly even when I didn't forget to bring a scarf and a jacket.
But today I gave the ole iPod a go, something I actually surprisingly haven't done in a while. Actually, it's usually hit or miss with my iPod; I find that I have so much of a variety of music that the songs that come up in shuffle mode almost never match my current mood. I don't have the patience or decisiveness to sit around making playlists for said moods, either.
This time, though, I don't know if it was my kickass Sony headphones or what, but every song I listened to brought back either a flood of memories or felt so fulfilling and exciting in its own unique way. First it was Kanye, with the usual awesome sample of some old song sped up, and really chill yet poignant message. Then it was "Hunter" and "Joga" by Bjork, two of my favorite, favorite songs. Her music has this way of making me feel heartbroken and ecstatic at the same time. I love the balance between the clever rhythms, percussion, and sound effects, and the warm, passionate string instruments, as well as her vocals, which also alternate between lots of electronic distortion and naked humanity. And the lyrics are often vague to the point of sounding almost random, yet they convey strong emotions and paint vivid pictures at the same time.
Then it was "Soak Up the Sun" by Sheryl Crow, which I still like even though it was seriously overplayed on the radio when it came out, which always makes me feel like I'm driving in Miami or SoCal or something.
By the time Jacques Brel came on with a ridiculously silly song in French, I was just in awe of how much meaning music can convey, how much variety and freedom it offers, how much history and personality it immortalizes in every song. That's when I heard a song by the Stars, talking about wanting one more chance
to be "young and wild and free." And Saves the Day, emoting with a
mixture of angstful vocals and really beautiful guitar progressions. By then, I was caught in that exquisite bittersweet feeling of being transported by music, in which I am both grateful to be there, anxious to become even more fully immersed, and in grief that the feeling is always so fleeting.
For someone who has been involved with music in some form her whole life, I often miss that feeling. There are so many times when my focus is on worrying whether I'm sounding good, analyzing music performances for technical accuracy, fretting about my improvisation skills, thinking I'll never be a good enough musician, feeling self-conscious on the dance floor, feeling guilty about not practicing enough, getting stressed about rehearsal schedules, or simply being too wound up to let myself be moved by music. It's so easy to lose sight of the raw power of music; it really only gives you as much as you can let it at any given moment.
That's totally how I feel about love in general. People who lack compassion, or who despair, are just blocking themselves off from the most nourishing thing in this world. We do it to protect ourselves, we do it out of fear, we do it out of doubt. But it's moments like these that make me remember why life is worth living, and living fully. Music is love, baby.
Well, they all played a part in making my day. I won't get into the gory details of how frustrated, discouraged, and just plain uncomfortable I felt by the time I left work today to go on my typical Monday trek--driving to Fremont (30-50 min), taking the BART up to North Berkeley (55 min), PME rehearsal (2.5 hrs), waiting for the BART in the cold (15-20 min), BART ride down (55 min) and a sleepy and at times dangerous drive home (40 min). I always dread that drive home; by the time I get to Fremont it's about 11:30pm, I'm super-tired and rather chilly even when I didn't forget to bring a scarf and a jacket.
But today I gave the ole iPod a go, something I actually surprisingly haven't done in a while. Actually, it's usually hit or miss with my iPod; I find that I have so much of a variety of music that the songs that come up in shuffle mode almost never match my current mood. I don't have the patience or decisiveness to sit around making playlists for said moods, either.
This time, though, I don't know if it was my kickass Sony headphones or what, but every song I listened to brought back either a flood of memories or felt so fulfilling and exciting in its own unique way. First it was Kanye, with the usual awesome sample of some old song sped up, and really chill yet poignant message. Then it was "Hunter" and "Joga" by Bjork, two of my favorite, favorite songs. Her music has this way of making me feel heartbroken and ecstatic at the same time. I love the balance between the clever rhythms, percussion, and sound effects, and the warm, passionate string instruments, as well as her vocals, which also alternate between lots of electronic distortion and naked humanity. And the lyrics are often vague to the point of sounding almost random, yet they convey strong emotions and paint vivid pictures at the same time.
Then it was "Soak Up the Sun" by Sheryl Crow, which I still like even though it was seriously overplayed on the radio when it came out, which always makes me feel like I'm driving in Miami or SoCal or something.
By the time Jacques Brel came on with a ridiculously silly song in French, I was just in awe of how much meaning music can convey, how much variety and freedom it offers, how much history and personality it immortalizes in every song. That's when I heard a song by the Stars, talking about wanting one more chance
to be "young and wild and free." And Saves the Day, emoting with a
mixture of angstful vocals and really beautiful guitar progressions. By then, I was caught in that exquisite bittersweet feeling of being transported by music, in which I am both grateful to be there, anxious to become even more fully immersed, and in grief that the feeling is always so fleeting.
For someone who has been involved with music in some form her whole life, I often miss that feeling. There are so many times when my focus is on worrying whether I'm sounding good, analyzing music performances for technical accuracy, fretting about my improvisation skills, thinking I'll never be a good enough musician, feeling self-conscious on the dance floor, feeling guilty about not practicing enough, getting stressed about rehearsal schedules, or simply being too wound up to let myself be moved by music. It's so easy to lose sight of the raw power of music; it really only gives you as much as you can let it at any given moment.
That's totally how I feel about love in general. People who lack compassion, or who despair, are just blocking themselves off from the most nourishing thing in this world. We do it to protect ourselves, we do it out of fear, we do it out of doubt. But it's moments like these that make me remember why life is worth living, and living fully. Music is love, baby.
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2 comments:
As much I would love to love mass transit, you should be able to get from Berkeley in much less than an hour and fifty minutes, at least at night. I used to do that in about an hour. Daytime travel might be longer if you have to travel at rush hour, but your outbound time seems rather long also.
Just my two bits. Glad you had a nice iPod experience. :-)
'Tis true, I admit it's rather inefficient--
I mostly do it to save the environment, save gas, and save myself from at least part of that awful drive up during rush hour. At least I tend to be able to review my sheet music for rehearsal (i.e. last minute cramming) on the way up. It is a bummer that it extends my return trip, too, which is why I tend to complain about that part. :)
If only the Bay Area could get its act together and extend public transpo down from Fremont to San Jose (and I'm not talking about the bus)...it's something I can, alas, only dream about. Given all the history of drama involved with getting that to happen, I'm not holding my breath.
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