WHAT MUSIC MEANS TO ME

Also seen in Industry Magazine

By: B

I can confidently declare that music means more to me than to most people. I would never claim to be smarter than others on the subject; I’m simply saying music hits me in a place others usually reserve for romance. It’s that spot in your heart that just kills you. It consumes your being and you feel sorry that others don’t feel the same.

To be clear, I'm no musician. I can play Jingle Bells on the guitar and "Heart and Soul" (both parts!) on the piano. I can also nail just about any lick on my air guitar. I don't think that my lack of talent means I know nothing about music. It is my belief that musicians trying to speak critically about music often end up jaded and biased about their own instrument. My friend seems pretty sweet at the guitar, but he likes Foreigner. So there you go.

I could dedicate a million words to my love for music, but here is the gist: sometimes I feel like crying when I hear “Something” by the Beatles. Swear to God. And I could be having a great day; it wouldn't even ruin my day to cry about it. It'd be like, get up, go to the gym, get some lunch, drive to the mall, have a cry in the mall parking lot while blasting The Beatles, get out, buy some jeans. And that isn't even my favorite song. You don’t want to know what happens to me when I hear “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay.” Just thinking about it right now is getting me misty.

That's the thing about music: there are only a few kinds of listeners: non-listeners, casual listeners and obsessive listeners. Non-listeners are the types who prefer talk radio, who consider paying money for a concert to be a waste. A CD car player means as much to them as an ice machine to an Eskimo. Band t-shirts are a waste and karaoke bars are a nuisance. This class likely includes your parents.

Approximately 90% of the public falls into the casual listener category. They can name their favorite band and have likely seen them in concert. Casual listeners like to buy and own CDs, but copying from friends just makes more sense. Sure, they'd love to hear your new CD, but it isn't a big deal. The underground scene is nothing to them. Music and emotions are rarely intertwined.

Finally, there are obsessive listeners. As mentioned before, there is no doubt that we have cried – or at least come close – just because of a song. We aren't crying because the song reminds us of a shitty breakup or a sad movie, we shed tears simply because we like the song so much. I know it sounds crazy, and I don’t expect you to understand.

We feel that there is a perfect soundtrack to every event. Give me an occasion and ten minutes and I'll have the perfect mix for you. Having some friends over for a dinner party? We'll start with “Waterloo Sunset” and go from there. After-bar? “Laid” by James will be song one. Believe me.

Obsessive listeners need to be the DJ. And you shouldn't fight us about it. We know what is good and we know what people will like, so leave us alone. We bring our music everywhere, and we need to own the actual CD. Burned discs are for mixes. Tuesday is our favorite day of the week because that is when new music comes out.

The thought that there is a band out there that we haven't heard yet haunts us at night. We don't understand how music isn't as important to everyone else as it is to us. We think we are normal. It's a sickness, really.

In an obsessive listener sub-category, I am a promoter. For some reason, I think I know the exact band that you would love. And I'll burn it for you. If you let me. Please please please, let me burn it for you! This is the disc that will change your life!

Here is a sentence that I have said at least once to every single person I have ever met: “If you like ______, then you need to hear _____.” They don't care.

The entire world can be categorized when speaking of music. I know I’m obsessive, but I honestly can’t help it. If music were God, I'd be the person on the sidewalk, handing out flyers. I’d be knocking on doors in a full-length robe, begging for a few minutes of your time. It’s sick, I know.

If you know any obsessive listeners like me, please just leave them alone. If you see them weeping in a corner, hugging a speaker, give them their space. Believe it or not, those are tears of joy.

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