What music means to me
Thursday, March 18th, 2010
A freewriting exercise for the advancement of the anti-bullshit cause around the world
Music is freedom. Music is escape. Music is engaging yet vegetating. Retarding yet expansive.
Music seems to fill my life with purpose and ambition, yet provide an outlet to the stress that comes with that purpose and ambition.
There are few feelings like conceiving and birthing a new song.
I want to tell the world to stop buying into the bullshit. Reality might suck, but often it is our own damn fault. Why must we always take the easy way out? And that goes for taste, too. What is the flavor of something you’re being force-fed? And do people even realize when they’re being force-fed? And do they care?!
Do the various spices and preparation techniques truly guise what it is you’re really swallowing? It might be marinated, sautéed, broiled, sprinkled with pepper, stuffed with cheese and deep-fried, but a turd is still a turd, no matter how thoroughly you drown it in gravy.
What is popular music but a collection of beats and notes, meticulously orchestrated in glorious three-to-five-minute packets of organized chaos?
Last night I dreamt of a giant wave, a wall of water, coming down upon the beach I was standing on. I was afraid to watch of the fate of the people stuck at the top of the wave – for some reason this monster rogue ripple was carrying people to a catastrophic meeting with the shore. For some reason this dream really sticks with me – the force of Nature, the finality of her judgments, the fragility of life. I felt like a grain of sand on that beach, awaiting my inevitable fate, to be slammed by the monstrous wall of water, frozen in the sun, static and unable to move, yet bouncing around with the rest of the grains of time. Even though I might sometimes feel like I’m putting together a puzzle, ultimately I am merely just another piece of the grand puzzle.
=Ben=



