Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream. (lost_angel) wrote,
Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream.

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John Phillip Sousa

I have roughly thirty gigs of mp3's and listen to my friend Glover's online radio station, <">Shasticon Radio</a>. If those aren't available, I usually throw in a CD or have the satellite/cable radio running. I do crave silence sometimes, but I feel comforted, buffeted, and energized by music.

That being said, I've forgotten how much I adore and appreciate live music. No recorded media can capture the energy of music, the kinetic energy as it runs through the floor or the air and grounds itself in your feet. The rhythm rumbles through your body and you feel it in your gut like a baby kicking until it warms the rest of your body and tingles your fingers and tightens your throat with the itch to sing or hum or sway.

With orchestras or full marching bands, the different tones and instruments an rifts are assembled into the perfect mixture. Then I break it down again, slowly or quickly depending on the tempo of the music, to listen for the smaller fragments of instruments that are made to form the whole.

If I hadn't chosen to study fine art (we were limited in the elective slots we could take from junior high on up through college), I would have picked music and loved it. Or perhaps it's better to listen to someone else's work with a critical ear but one not so critical and knowledgible to pick apart everything.

Note: I love wooden high school auditorium seats that are slightly slick and the warm light wood color.

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