People who don't know me (or don't think the same way that I do) often don't understand the way my brain interacts with music. My brother, for example, thinks that my use of the phrase "this song is my life right now" is horribly affected, although in my mind it's completely true. My roommate understands what it means to "love" a song, but she doesn't have the same kind of reaction to music as I do. I can only think of, oh, maybe three or four people off the top of my head who have this mentality.
Sometimes, like today, the way I feel is perfectly matched by a song and I need to listen to that song as much as I can. Sometimes it's one artist in particular, but most of the time it's one song whose lyrics, music, and style fits like a puzzle piece into my overall emotional and physical state. Even if I'm in a horrible mood, as that perfect song slides into place, my body and mind relaxes. "
Oh," my body says, "that's what that missing piece was. Okay. You can go on now. You've found it."
I don't exaggerate when it comes to songs and this little personal phenomenon and I love nothing more than when I don't need to explain myself. Last semester I walked into a class with one of my musically-minded friends, looked her in the eye and thanked for for the Carbon Leaf album she'd burned for me. I said, quite simply without any melodrama, that the song "What About Everything" was saving my life at that moment, and she didn't need any further explanation. I didn't mean that the one song was single-handedly preventing me from killing myself (obviously- I'm a
happy emo and lack suicidal inclinations), but at that time my life was so hectic and crazy and this one song about the important things in life and the search to find the real and true things about human existence kept me grounded. I love how when I was adjusting to the realities of a long-distance relationship this fall, I could call up another one of my friends and say, "I'm listening to (Damien Rice's) 'O' on repeat" and his immediate reaction was "Fun. That's not good. Let's talk." No explanation necessary. With very few exceptions, you can tell how I am by what music I'm listening to, and few people in my life understand this.
Songs move me. Music moves me. I can't just listen, and I can't just see or hear music for what it is. That's why I adore TV shows like Scrubs that use music
as it's supposed to be used, to add to the overall viewing and, in my mind, living experience.
My life has a soundtrack. I have my musical obsessions, like everyone else, but I have my instant, no hesitation, mood-changing music. James Taylor and Carly Simon soothe me like nothing else, because I associate them with my parents and my childhood. They remind me of my parents and their love for me. Classical piano music, especially Chopin, immediately focuses my brain, because of my intense piano training as a child (and my scary, scary piano teacher).
I don't understand people who take music at face value. It's so much more than that.
And, just for the record, the song I've listened to on repeat to day is Joshua Radin's "Winter." Make of that what you will.
