This post is very, very long. Probably the longest one I've ever written. Take your time. Basically this is a brief (compared to what I could write) description about what music means to me and my opinions about it.
I'll start back when I was 12. I was taking drum lessons from a high schooler who lived nearby, and one day we sat down by his computer in hopes of helping him discern what kind of music I liked. Every genre he tried to show me came up with a response like, "I don't know...it's kind of cool, I guess." The best description he could get out of me pertaining to the kind of music I liked was that I enjoyed music that made me feel good while riding in the car and looking out the window. The concept that I didn't know what kind of music I liked was totally alien to him, as it is to me now.
Music didn't really start to become a part of me until high school. The main thing that started me developing attitudes and opinions about music was my job at Little Caesar's during my senior year. I absolutely loved that job and all the people I worked with, but my one complaint (minor, really) was the music they listened to. About 90% of it was rap and/or pop, and what's worse, it was on stations that overplayed the music to a bloody pulp (I swear they just cycled the same 10 songs all day). I developed an extensive bias against these genres and the radio in general (specifically Movin' 100.7 and 97.1 ZHT). I came to view this music as unintelligent, crude, talent-starved, and worthless. Granted, much of it was, but the attitude I formed was that it was the nature of the genre that was responsible for these flaws, not the individual artists (although I hated them too). I couldn't seem to entertain the possibility that rap could ever be "quality music", or even music at all. Gimmicks like Autotune (which I still do and always will dislike) only made it worse.
During this period of being engulfed in music that I found distasteful, my natural instinct was to desperately search for what I thought was "quality music", and I did. Over time, I formed strong opinions about what was and what was not well-produced music, and that was ultimately when music started to become a part of me. I came to enjoy certain songs or bands so much that I felt personally insulted when I found that another person disliked them. I considered my music an extension of my personality, and if somebody messed with my music, they messed with me (which led to a lot of really awkward arguments). I considered myself to be exceptionally gifted in the art of analyzing music, and while this may have been a bias in itself, it wasn't the real problem. I used this so-called talent to justify my attitude that what I liked must have been good music, and what I didn't like must have been poor or low-quality music. I didn't care how many people liked Taylor Swift's "Love Story"; I hated it, so it was clearly not good music. I even started asserting that people who like music I disliked didn't know what they were talking about and simply had no idea what good music really was. I had a hard time stopping myself from instantly judging people based on what kind of music they like. It was getting out of control.
Luckily, I got some help. One night, as I was particularly fed up with rap and pop, I posted a conceited note on Facebook outlining my bold, brutally "honest", lampooning criticism of all the musical "artists" I hated the most. I expected objections, but only from those who I labeled as "unable to judge what quality music really is". Unexpectedly, the most slamming and intelligent rebuttals I received were from two of my friends I respected most in the musical world: Andrew Jensen and Jack Barton. Both provided excellent arguments against my biased and uneducated opinions, and it completely disarmed me. I can't say I instantly and completely reconstructed my views on the issue, but it started me on the road to recovery.
Now I judge music differently, largely in connection with the more psychological components like memory consolidation and emotional content. This has come with the realization that the music I listen to, the experiences I have, and the people I associate with become connected. The memory portion of this connection has impacted my life in two main ways.
First, the way that music orchestrates the mood for how I remember experiences and events in my life, and the person I was at the time. To explain this, I'll use what I call musical progression. In junior high, I liked Styx and Jon Schmidt (among other things). Now, I don't like them so much any more. Often I express it as "graduating" from a musical artist: I have "graduated" from Styx and Jon Schmidt and moved on to "better"but similar artists such as Rush and William Joseph. I don't know if this is because Rush and William Joseph are actually better musicians than Styx and Jon Schmidt, or if it's that I view myself as a better person now and I just happen to be involved with Rush and William Joseph at the time. Another thing I've noticed (as I think many other people have) is that Styx, Jon Schmidt, and other artists call back memories of things I did during the time periods I was listening to their music. For example, Styx always reminds me of Scout campouts, because I was participating in them at the time I enjoyed Styx. Jon Schmidt makes me think of youth conferences, Basshunter makes me think of high school dances, Thomas Newman makes me think of long road trips, and many other examples. In a very big way, music sets the stage for our lives.
Second, the way music influences my relationships and experiences with people. This often happens simultaneously with life experiences, although I believe the connection with people is stronger. When people introduce me to new music, I instantly and unconsciously associate that music with memories of them. For instance, I can't listen to Foreigner without thinking of Jeff Jenkins, I can't listen to Relient K, Owl City, or Taylor Swift without thinking of Nolan Blackhurst, Andrew Beckett, and Amanda Hixon, I can't listen to Basshunter, Bond, or E.S. Posthumus without thinking of Nathan Merrill, I can't listen to the Princess and the Frog soundtrack without thinking of Sarah Johnson, I can't listen to the August Rush soundtrack without thinking of my older brother Michael, I can't listen to the Tarzan soundtrack or any of Phil Collins' music without thinking of my younger sister Julia, and I can't listen to the Lion King soundtrack without thinking of the amazing people I was able to be involved with during the Spring Sing. I could go on for days. Music has a mutual relationship with the people I associate with. That bond is even stronger when I like both the music and the people, but in some cases the abundance of one can make up for the lack of the other. If I don't particularly like a person, but I find that our musical tastes are similar, I find the person more appealing. If I don't like a particular song, but a good number of my close friends like it, the song grows on me (which I didn't realize until "Hey Soul Sister" by Train came out). But when both components are present, the bond becomes incredibly strong. I've always sort of liked the Lion King soundtrack, but once the Spring Sing happened, it's grown to become some of my most favorite and beloved music I've ever listened to. I sort of liked the people who were in the Spring Sing all along, but afterwards, my love for the music expanded my love for them, and now I consider all of them close friends.
Music has a power for uniting people, resolving differences, forming lasting memories, healing, feeling, and so many other things. I can't even begin to describe how much music has influenced my personality and my life with others, but I am eternally grateful for the situations it's put me in. I truly believe music is a God-given gift, and I cannot fathom the ingenuity of its invention. Music will always be an inseparable part of who I am, and I fear to think of who I might have been without it.
Music is memory. Music is emotion. Music is power.
Music is LIFE.
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