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The Gift Of Music
I love music. All music. I love show tunes. And I love classic rock. I love Jalikunda. And Jazz. And Bluegrass. And Classical. And Dutch Folk Music. And Country. I love Opera. And I even love Rap. Well, I like Pitbull and the Alexander Hamilton soundtrack; if that counts. The reason I love music is what it does for me, and to me. And I want to talk about that. Not about what I like or why. And not about gear (which I love also!). And I want we few, proud, mildly mentally disturbed music lovers/audiophiles to take a step back to appreciate, truly appreciated, the gift we have been blessed with.
We listen for so many reasons. We listen to appreciate the skill and dedication of gifted musicians. To relax, and to connect. We listen to remember special moments and sometimes we even listen to feel sad, so that we can feel better afterward. But the unifying theme is emotion. Listening to music moves us. It creates a response beyond a technical assessment of the performance or reproduction. The experience has the ability to transport us to a place where nothing exists but the moment and the emotion and the magic. And that is our gift. We can literally get lost in the music.
What? You say. Everyone can Enjoy The Music (you see what I did there??). Well... no. They can't, or they can but don't allow themselves to. Now I need to clarify that I'm not talking about the guy in Bermuda shorts at the backyard barbecue who taps his hand on his awkwardly crossed legs while listening to Queen, although that is certainly a connection and I'm not trying to disrespect that. I'm talking about being moved, lost completely in the music, lump in the throat, sometimes weeping from the power of it all; and yes, from the quality of its reproduction on our beloved high-end systems.
Why can't these people get lost in the music? I can only guess, but I feel terribly sorry for them. I can assume some are lost in stress or anxiety. Some are too busy to stop and smell the proverbial roses. Some just don't care, or think it's stupid. Some have never been properly exposed. But you can pick them out in a blink. They are the ones talking during the performance. Checking their emails. Focusing more on taking a photo of their child performing then listening to the performance. Looking at their watch or leaving 10 minutes early at a concert so they don't get stuck in traffic. And they are the ones who, when we play music for them on our systems, talk through the whole thing and then ask, how much did this cost you? They should never be looked on with disdain or disgust; but we should feel terribly sorry for these people.
That moment of intimacy is a gift, a blessing. Something few can appreciate and fewer still can experience. So grab your record and drop the needle, plop that CD in the tray, or tap your tablet and let the music flow. And the next time you return from that wonderful lost in the moment, take a deep breath and reflect not just on the moment. Count yourself amongst the truly lucky few who can go on that journey.
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