OK, I hope everyone (probably, all one of you) enjoyed my first blog last week. It’s that time again, which means you’re being treated to another insight into my stunning intellect. However, a change for this weekend: instead of going off into yet another rant about the current state of affairs in the world, I’m actually going to talk about something nice and mildly philosophical. After all, I’ve plenty of rants up my sleeve, so I can afford to spread them out a bit.
So, the topic this week is music. Can a piece of music, like Natalie Portman claimed in ‘Garden State’, “change your life”? And what did she, or rather, her character, mean by that? For every experience we have alters our perception of everything that comes after, subtly changing our lives. But it’s fairly safe to say that she didn’t mean something so mundane as that. Did she means that the song would so radically change your perceptions in a way that would mean that there was no going back? Imagine, hypothetically, of course, someone who has experienced no music in his life (poor guy) suddenly coming face-to-face with a full orchestral rendering of the Ode to Joy. Similarly, imagine someone who has only come across classical music -as I pretty much only was up until the age of 12- and think of the effect a song by Hendrix would have. Well, all right, so pretty much my first experience of popular music that I can remember was reggae -which led to the oddest, and whitest, reggae fan ever, for a few months- but the principle is the same. Is the song in question in the scene from ‘Garden State’ (The Shins’ ‘New Slang’) be so radical a work compared to everything that came before that the effect would be just as mind-blowing? The answer is probably not, and I’m afraid to my ears it’s horribly bland.
So, what is this ‘life-changing’ X-factor? To my mind, I’d have to say that it’s not just the music you listen to, and whether it’s for the first time or not, but also the situation you listen to it in. After all, how many songs have been etched in all of our memories because they happened to be playing at particularly significant moments in your life? Is there any one of us who hasn’t got at least one song indelibly linked with a time, a place, and maybe the people you listened to it with? In my case, the list is nearly endless: belting out karaoke tunes at the top of my lungs while driving through Illinois, all those old songs that played on the school bus, and of course, the music we played while hanging out in my first year at University. All of these have particular significance to me, and I’ll never be able to listen to them again without recalling those times.
Maybe it’s not the music, but just the moment itself that so impresses itself on our lives so that they’re irrevocably changed. These special songs are a way of recapturing the past that is otherwise gone. With just a few notes, you can not only remember what you were doing, who you were with and the exact reason that it’s become etched in your brain.
And perhaps if we ever need to revise, we should turn the subject matter into a song. We’ve more chance of remembering it that way.
Please post comments, questions, and, if you don’t mind, songs that have changed your lives.
5 comments:
Save Tonight, by Eagle Eye Cherry.
I bet.
For me, it'd be 'Radio Player' by Allister, the first song from my first concert, or Crane Wife part 1 from last time I saw the Decemberists. Both deeply affecting, but in different ways.
While I agree with you that the place, time, and emotion of the situation have major impacts, there are times when music can hit you with its purely aesthetic, affective merits.
Recently, I have been loving Jeff Buckley's version of "Hallelujah", as well as this guy:
http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=RoyZimmerman
You finally have a stable worldwide outlet for your charismatic arrogance.
Super.
I would have to say... 'Sanctuary' from the HoND soundtrack. Tacky as that sounds, it's dramatic and in church-latin. So it wins.
The first time I ever really listened to "You Can Call Me Al" by Paul Simon, the third verse ("A man walks down the street / It's a street in a strange world / Maybe it's the third world, / Maybe it's just his first time around. / He doesn't speak the language, he / Holds no currency, / He is a foreign man, / He is surrounded by the sound, the sound / Cattle in the marketplace, / Scatterlings and orphanages. / He looks around, around, / He sees angels in the architecture, / Spinning in infinity, / He says / Amen! and Hallelujah!"), I rewound the tape--yes this was back in cassette days--and listened over and over again to that one line, "Amen! and Hallelujah!" which Simon starts in a murmer and ends in a tiny swoop. I love his songwriting and his pathos and his energy, and that is a great moment. Also the first time I really listened to Pink Floyd's "Hey You" (these are songs I heard as a kid on my parents' stereo but never really *heard* until I was older and discovered them for myself.). The third verse, after the bridge, where Roger Waters jumps up an octave and his voice is ever-so-slightly strained, nearly a cry...amazing. Listen to it. "Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all-- / United we stand, divided we fall."
p.s. Tom, this blog is failing to live up to its writer's reputation for greatness. How am I to stalk you effectively if you never update? love, Rachel.
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