WHY? (Part 5 of a Six-Part Series on Captivation)

To recap: Becoming an active appreciator of music requires a few simple steps. First, remember to ask “why” when you feel the brain juice starting to fizz upon introduction to new music or evaluation of the already-favored stuff. Remember to believe in and respect the manifold and duplex assortment of ways people come to enjoy music, for such experiences are yours to share in and create. Don’t be scared off if it doesn’t click at first, or at tenth, or ever. You are not everyone, nor can you become everyone, but you can always draft in someone’s blissed-out wake. And finally, learn to transcend the mode of thinking which parcels music into Like and Don’t Like. Learn to build your standards around which music gets through the deepest and most longlasting, soundtrack to your life shit, not about keeping certain stuff at arm’s length because you fear being made uncomfortable or bored by it. And never lose faith that a particular song or musician can enter into that pantheon.

Now. I recognize these WHY? entries, as well as the entry immediately preceding this one, veer into the abstract, and in the most recent one’s case, into earnest inquiries from readers as to what the fuck I was saying/which substance I was controlling. So I’m going to keep this one brief. Or at least succinct.

I’m going to briefly go over the semantics you should all be keeping in mind. First, considering all music “likeable” is to be able to listen to any given song or collection of songs in its entirety and to feel something other than distracted boredom. If you feel venom-slathered contempt for it, that’s liking it. If you mildly enjoyed a few songs, that’s liking it. If you want to ink the lyrics on your forearm, that’s liking it. Thinking about how hungry you are or how your sock’s bunched up or when the next flavor of Cheez-It hits the shelves is not liking it. Music created by people (or computers, there’s some of that), even bored people, is the organization and pummeling of unruly air molecules by wood and wire and brass and circuit, by some sort of often-ineffable logic on the part of the player and composers, let loose on the world. If that leaves you fidgeting to be perceiving something else, that is an absence of liking, a dearth of affection, pretty much an aesthetic “go fuck yourself”, and that’s more of a negative reaction than any cringe or jawclench induced by noise music or bubblegum pop or the skillionth repetition of “Fight The Power”. Music’s like Greek and Norse gods. It only dies when people don’t care.

But some music demands more from us than simple affection. When we are compelled to re-listen, to wear out vinyl and test bystanders’ nerves (my former roommate used to demand that I restart this song from the beginning before it had hit the 2 minute mark), when it tumbles into emotion we didn’t know was there and leaves us giddy and bloody, that’s what I call Interest. What keeps you coming back. What makes its way onto the Most Played list. What you offer up to prospective friends and mates as a sampler for who you believe you are. I try to like all music. But interest can’t be hurried. It’s organic and finicky to grow sometimes, but when it does…then it becomes You Captivated, so drawn up in the music that your ego clocks out and your body unweaves into just a breezy hammock, holding just barely the heartbeat and breaths and impulses, rhythm and melody, indistinguishable. And then the train comes to your stop, or you twist your ankle on the dancefloor, or a string breaks, and you’re back.

Everyone with me? Like versus Interest. Like all, be Interested in what you can. Okay.

BUT WHAT ABOUT NAZI PUNK? OR MUSIC MADE BY KILLERS, LIKE PHIL SPECTOR OR CHARLES MANSON? OR ANY MUSIC THAT CLEAVES RADICALLY AWAY FROM POLITICAL OR SOCIAL IDEOLOGIES YOU HOLD NEAR AND DEAR? WOULDN’T IT BE HYPOCRISY TO STUBBORNLY CLAIM TO LIKE IT IF ONE IS TO FOLLOW YOUR PHILOSOPHY? CAN YOU REALLY COMPARTMENTALIZE YOUR OWN PREFERENCES AND A BROADER APPRECIATION OF THE EMOTIONAL AND AESTHETIC IMPACT OF ALL MUSIC? OR IS THAT SOME PERVERSE BULLSHIT IN THE FACE OF INTENTIONALLY OFFENSIVE MUSIC? CAN FERVENT FEMINISTS HOLD TRUE TO YOUR WORDS IF SOMEONE STARTS PLAYING “TIP DRILL“? ETC? ETC?

Opinions are almost sacrosanct in this country. The phrase “you’re entitled to your opinion” as a caveat to pretty much everything rolls with ease off the tongue of anyone trying to make a focused, sober argument. But, as hinted at in parts 3 and 4, opinions aren’t all pulled from the grab-bag and never taken out of the box. They’re subject to change, and perhaps more importantly, they’re reflective of yer inner framework in ways that you might not get if you spent a day trapped in an elevator with you. Your opinion may not seem like a reflex but if it is, believing it to be implacable is to believe the self implacable. And sorry to spoil the ending, but you’re not. So an opinion, though free to have and freely possessed by all, can indeed be earned.

It’s true that certain music is designed to repel certain listeners, or otherwise express an attitude of repulsion. Racial and sexual intolerance. Murderous rage. Sexism. Ugly things, the lot of ‘em, and there’s no rationalizing that away. And then there’s the troubling idea of “supporting”, if not financially then ideologically via one’s refusal to refuse, the musician who does things you don’t agree with. Musicians who kill (that’s William Burroughs narrating!). Musicians who rape. Musicians who would deny others their civil rights. Musicians who probably do a little of all of the above.

I don’t tell everyone who likes the widely-beloved book “Ender’s Game” that its author is a entrenched homophobe (which he so is). If I did, would they all care enough to throw out their copies, letting their distaste kneecap their affection for the book series? Probably not.

I can’t advocate denial of the ugly and problematic aspects of certain unfortunate corners of music. What you gain from a drive to listen to as much as you can is an open mind, a spirit of adventure, a greater tolerance for stepping outside your fascia-deep habits and a taste for risk. With music, this is a relatively innocuous journey, as the worst you can expect is a shock from poorly wired headphones, tinnitus, tired feet, and, well, maybe death by crushing. The engagement of your various political and philosophical beliefs with those of the music or musicians you come across can be truly eye-opening or  reassuring in regards to your preconceptions, and in doing so you have tested the critical rigor of your opinion, bringing me back to my earlier point. Like the music for what it can do (or not do). You don’t have to check your morals at the door when you take on The Pirate Slut’s way. But you do have to believe in them enough to, if necessary, leave ‘em in the car while you run inside, not forgetting them and always leaving the window cracked so they don’t swell up and die with heat, but recognizing that your beliefs and your dogma don’t need to be one and the same. Life’s just too long.

 

2 Comments

Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI