On a Long Forgotten Morn

A particular trend that I've noticed through most of my high school years is the ability for a teenager to tune the world around them out. Now, this can be incredibly useful at time--such as while on an eight hour bus ride to Utah with fifty Theatre kids--but for other times, I wish that more people would just stop and listen.

The most common practice of achieving this ethereal state is to use standard headphones. Now, I have no objection to listening to music--and I love music as a complete entity--but I would much rather appreciate the events around me rather than having music constantly pumped through my ears. While walking the streets of New York, most of my fellow tourist companions were completely engrossed in whatever they were listening to. I, on the other hand, was listening to a couple break up on 7th street, a car alarm on 5th, and a man trying to sell me a belt buckle in Harlem. These are the things that can only be heard in that specific area--but the modern citizen feels the need to cover that natural beauty with beauty of his own choosing. I simply don't understand.

My relationship with music is deeply personal--and I think part of the reason that I took such a liking to vinyl was that it is not exactly practical. It feels special; as if that slab of vinyl needs to be cared for and cherished--not just thrown on on iPod and picked apart for playlists. It feels as if music has lost that sense of connection to the world and now just acts as background noise.

Granted, that connection can still exist between Man and iPod--it is just much harder to achieve. Someone I go to school with always has his headphones in. Whenever I try to talk to him, I have to repeat the first sentence--after he's taken the buds out of his ears. This isn't what music is supposed to be. I'm not at all religious--but I still believe that there is music everywhere in the world. So why deny to yourself what has been given for free?

The conversations missed, people ignored, and sounds lost just don't seem worth it for a constant stream of auditory pleasure. It makes me think of the the soma tablets in Brave New World--where citizens in the future take drugs to stimulate themselves when they feel any negative emotion. Nobody knows how to deal with their personal problems anymore--they just pop their headphones to their ears instead of facing the problem--using music as an "escape." True, I sometimes use music to shut out my own personal demons--but I don't ignore the problem as if music cures my troubles. It simply helps me evaluate life.

I've learned more about music with my headphones out than I have with them in.

I Am Fine, I Am Fine, I Am Fine--I Just Need a Hundred Dollars

Last night, I had people over after our improv comedy show. It was just a relaxing hang out. We made a small fire and talked about music and literature. There were some people there that I had never really sat down and talked with--but my close friends were there as well.

We arrived on the subject of music by usual means--I had a record on in the background--so we moved up into my room. One of my friends grabbed my acoustic guitar and we both started playing songs we had written. Another friend, about a half hour into the small concert, made a comment that I completely agree with.

"You know, I see all those people on MySpace that say 'Music is my life' and that just bugs the shit out of me."

I can't stand those shirts that are just "[Blank] is life," because it gives such a one-dimensional view of life. Music is a huge part of my life--but it does not equal life. "Is" is just a synonym for "equals"--in this sense. Life is something that is bigger than all of us and bigger than the sum of all of us--so I find it pretty absurd that our generation can boil the entire concept of "Life" down into a simple sentence.

Music is not life. Basketball is not life. Even love is not life.

Those sayings are only futile attempts to have a form of identity. That same night--we were looking through my old yearbooks and saw a picture of a girl who said that music is her life. She was photographed lying on the ground--CDs strewn about in the perfect messy-yet-completely-controlled formation. The problem--that we all noticed--is that the CDs were either Greatest Hits albums, "Now!" compilations, or just flat-out blank. I had a good laugh.

Even for somebody like Bob Dylan--who has been making music for fifty years--music is not their life. Other issues are present that cannot be qualified or quantified, and I hate that our generation now feels the need to make a statement about "how much we love music." It's almost as if we have to prove our love for things. Not just things, even--people too. Facebook recently added an app that tracks what people enjoy. You can become a fan of "Music," or "Sleeping," or probably fucking "Breathing."

Music is a form of expression. It is a medium for conveying emotion through form. It can touch our souls and our lives--but being so focused on one thing is quite detrimental to the actual form of life.

Has our generation really lost our concept of identity to the point where we need to shout it from the rooftops and across bandwidth just to make sure that others know who we are?

I do not have to prove my love. Yes--music is a huge part of my life; so is theatre--but I associate myself with people whom I feel don't need proof.

Bleedin' Out From All These Wounds

I'm telling myself now that I will update regularly now. A new year has come and practically gone--and I'm afraid at how much has changed. Part of my old-self keeps trying to reason with my new-self about life and comfort and clarity, but neither side can be mature enough to admit that the other is correct. Much like my own personality--even my subconscious is stubborn.

Sometimes I listen to what people tell me about myself. Other times I don't. It's as simple as that. I admit that I'm a horrible snob--but I don't see any reason to try and alter that. And instead of "snobby," I prefer "selective."

While I was writing out my usual list of Top Ten Albums of the Year--namely for 2008, as it was last year--I began to think about how each work inspired my own writing. After being exposed to The Gaslight Anthem sometime in August, I was hooked. It was the modern Springsteen I had been searching for my entire life. Both of their records now sit nicely tucked away in my collection. I finished writing my song for my Senior Project... Should I be capitalizing that? It seems too important not to...

But mixed up in all of the excitement of graduation, life, and music--I'm still able to hold on to what matters most. I'm not exactly sure what that is yet--but my song definitely does.