Music is the background of my life. I have playlist after playlist carefully curated to suit different moods, environments, situations and chores. You want a selection of music for something? I’ll have a playlist lined up for it. And if not, give me five minutes, I’ll make one.
Since I was a kid, music was my everything. I learnt piano for five years (poorly I might add, apologies to my junior school piano teacher) and had singing lessons from the age of eight until I was seventeen. I adored it. To the point where I was not often found without humming or singing to myself. Something I continue to do even to this day and much to the chagrin of my loved ones (again apologies). Singing along to songs on the radio is more of a compulsion to me than a conscious effort.
I always saw myself as going into the music business when I grew up. I wanted to be in shows on the West End belting my lungs out to audiences night after night. Connecting over the shared empathy and vibrant spectacle that such arenas often produce. That dream unfortunately came to an end when I developed Tinnitus and Hyperacusis as a teenager.
But my love of music, while altered, did not die.
In fact, it became more of an obsession.
Music has always been a means by which I can express myself. I’ve said previously how books and words were a path to escapism for me as a kid and in later years. Well, music gave me the opportunity to vent my emotions freely when they were too overwhelming to ignore. I could pour my pain, my frustration and my upset into a powerful rock ballad. I could thrust my happiness, my excitement and my joy into a bachata track. I could channel my fear, my anticipation and my anxiety into a soothing piano concerto. No matter what I was feeling, there was a piece of music or a song ready to feel it all with me.
Music is often referred to as a language of its own. And I am very much obliged to agree. I have always listened to music from around the world. My playlists are filled with songs in English, Spanish, French, Mandarin, Korean and Japanese just to name a few. While I may not understand every word being used, I can always feel the sentiment behind them. You do not need to speak another language when a mournful note is translation enough.
Even yesterday, when I had a very difficult day, my first instinct was to put on a playlist of calming instrumental pieces to help soothe the frustration and tears I couldn’t stop from coming. Nobody has the exact same taste in music. All of us will have different songs we turn to in times of struggle, but the fact of the matter is, we all turn to it.
Music heals when words fail. Or, as Hans Christian Anderson once said, ‘where words fail, music speaks‘.
I love discovering new artists and new music just as much as I love picking up a new book. The excitement that comes with hearing a new song and knowing it’s about to become one of my favourites is exhilarating. I find myself wanting to share it with as many people as I can, but also feeling slight fear that they will not have the same love for it as me.
A melody in itself is very personal. The way you react and relate to it is unique. The way you interpret lyrics will differ to the next listener. And that is what I love so much about them.
Much like with books, no one person will have the exact same response to a song as anyone else. They may scream and shout when the song is played live amongst an equally exuberant crowd, but the reasoning behind their cries will be completely different to their neighbours. Songs evokes a myriad of emotions in such a short period of time.
Music can be as healing as it can be nurturing.
It provides a small pocket of relief and understanding in a world that is increasingly more fast paced and disconnected. To feel seen when you are at your most isolated and vulnerable is sometimes all we need.
From just A Simple Writer.
