Music is a dish best shared.
I think one important thing many of us are missing is experiencing music together. Virtually all of us listen to music, in one way or another. Many of us share it online, others talk about it amongst each other at the proverbial water cooler, but the experience of live music is one that has more of an important effect on our lives and our mental health than I think many of us realize.
Listening to music can be a very emotional experience. It can hit you just the right way, allowing you to release whatever tension, emotion, or excitement you’ve got bottled-up. I think most people can identify with putting on just the right song, cranking up the dial, and letting the music build an environment around/inside you for a few minutes.
What I’d like to discuss here is the idea that those kinds of private experiences can be exponentially greater and more impactful when shared with others. There are many things in this life which unite people, and remind us of how much we share with each other — music is, in my opinion, one of the strongest.
Disclaimer: As the title of this site tries to explain, these are all my own perspectives; just me. I know there are a ton of people and communities for whom none of this applies. Further, I’m not suggesting peace on earth could be realized if we all just had a giant peace concert and played tunes together. Please resist dismissing my thoughts as something extreme or ridiculous. I ask you to hear me out, and open your mind to see if your own experiences align with the ideas I’m putting forward — if only a bit.
This idea of people having a fundamental need to share the experience of music isn’t something I recently thought of. I have no illusions that this (or any thought presented on this site) are completely original. I do think, however, that this idea was re-ignited in my mind by the global situation of the past few years. I think the pandemic forced me to realize how important it was for me and the people in my life, simply by force — you don’t know how much you needed a thing until you’re starved of it.
You tell me!
Enough of me telling you. I ask you to reach back in your memories — maybe they’re recent, maybe it’s been a while — and remember how connected you felt to those around you at those magical shows. Remember how much the music affected you. It may have been excitement, love, anger, sadness, optimism, melancholy, or anything else - remember how the right show can hit you deeply.
While the concert/show/session is in play, I rarely recognize what’s happening; sometimes I do, but usually it’s more of an afterthought. More often than not, I’m enjoying the moment, singing like a fool, and enjoying the experience. It’s usually not until afterwards, as I leave the venue, do I look around at all the people and feel a deep sense of connection — a sense that we just shared something worth remembering.
It’s that feeling that I ask you to remember. Remember how relieved you felt to release that anger and frustration. Remember how it felt to find a group to share that unbridled joy and excitement. Remember the internal quiet you enjoyed after sharing some truly intimate emotions with thousands. Remember how connected you felt.
Not everything is special, but some...
Not every show has the effect – far from it. Some live music is just that, live music, something to be enjoyed and taken for what it is; usually fun surface-level music that’s meant to entertain. I have music in my library which is as far from transcendent as can be; it has its place, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all.
The experiences I’m referring to here, however, are the ones that have an inexplicable magic for some of those in the audience — or, indeed, the musicians themselves. It’s the type of thing which can’t be quantified, isn’t logical, and isn’t consistent from person to person.
I would guess this type of experience is not only impossible to predict, but also impossible to replicate. You could consider every factor imaginable, replicate the setting perfectly, and I doubt it would produce the same effect. The listener has as much effect on these kinds of experiences as anything else. It’s like the Shrödinger’s cat of shared experiences: it both is and is not something more than just a concert — only you can open the box to find out.
If you’ve never experienced anything like this, you likely think I drank too much on those nights, or smoked too much, and that’s why I’m talking about magic and uniting people through music. Maybe, as I have indeed sprinkled a few substances on an evening of music here and there, but not consistently. I’ve had just as many of these experiences stone-sober as I have otherwise.
“Music is something special. I truly believe it’s something as deep as life itself. I’m not a religious person, but the effect music can have on me is one of the things that keeps me on the agnostic side of atheism. ”
Beliefs aside, worldviews aside, I think we need to get together more to share experiences. I think we need to share music more often. The effects music can have on individuals is, in my opinion, amplified greatly when shared. This shared experience of music doesn’t necessarily have to be on a large scale, either; a family of five singing old songs is a beautiful thing — as is a giant stadium of 90,000 people singing in unison.
The small and intimate experiences.
A few years after my uncle died, I stood in my aunt’s living room with about four or five other family members. As is an ongoing tradition in Ireland, we began to sing together. One person would start, with others sometimes joining-in for the chorus. This would go on for a good while, and is a perfect example of what I’m putting forward here in this writing. Sometimes it was a fun tradition, other times it was an experience you’d never forget. This day was one of those times.
My aunt began to sing the song my late uncle always loved to sing: Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. This was not, of course, one of the traditional Irish songs we would usually sing, but it was a song he loved, and so we sang it in his memory. It was a beautiful moment that went well beyond simply remembering a deceased family member — there was an inexplicable experience shared in those moments that affects me even now, while I write.
Sharing music with thousands.
As I mentioned above, small, intimate groups are by no means the only settings in which I’ve had these experiences in sharing live music. One memory comes to mind as I write this — when I saw Nine Inch Nails perform in a stadium of about 20,000 people. The air vibrated with the enormously loud music, but it also contained threads of raw emotion that connected anyone even half paying attention.
There was something darkly magical about thousands of people singing — sometimes screaming — deeply human and honest music about some of the more difficult or basic experiences we all share. In those songs which strip bare the images we all portray to the world, we see, hear, and feel those around us sharing those honest emotions. In those moments, thousands of people made a deep, though fleeting, connection. I didn’t dance, I didn’t jump around, I just stood and sang; it was exhausting, emotional, and wonderful.
Remember those feelings.
People used to sit around a fire singing songs. These have been some of the most intimate ways we share our experiences, know who we are, and explore where we came from. Those feelings that linger after one of these experiences are typically dismissed as we get back to our daily grind. We forget the sense of ‘what was that!?’, and chalk it up to excitement, or adrenaline. All I’m saying is I think we’re collectively dismissing how much of an effect those kinds of experiences can have on us. There may be an opportunity to allow these reactions and new perspectives to spark interesting conversations, or even shifts in how we see each other.
I asked you earlier to remember any experiences which might fit what I’ve been trying to describe here today. Hold those memories in your mind. Go listen to a favourite song, and remember the power they can have on us. Allow the music to do its thing — whatever that thing might be, it’s all good.
I think we all need more of that kind of stuff in our lives. So, why not have a look and see if there are any shows in your area? At the very least, it would likely be better than routine, but it might be something more, something you can share with those around you in a very real way.
You’ll have to open the box yourself to see what’s happened to the cat…
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