"Where words fail, music speaks." - H.C. Andersen
There's just something about words that are put to music that speak so much deeper into my soul than words by themselves.
I went to a concert on Sunday. That's not really big news, as most who know me know.
It was a Bon Iver concert. That IS big news. He's been on my list for a while now.
It was...
beautiful, visually (outside.Santa Barbara.stage design.lights.) and aurally, and cathartic.
I sat alone--well, alone while surrounded by strangers--and let the music and voice of Justin DeYarmond Edison Vernon (isn't that a fantastic name?) wash over me.
There's something about hearing a favorite song played live that makes me love it all the more.
Especially when it's prefaced with a bit of insight from the artist himself:
Mister Vernon then proceded to play re: stacks, arguably my favorite song. Definitely in the top three.
What I'm trying to say is that as much as I love the song and find meaning in it for myself, it means so much more to Justin himself because he wrote it. It's his. His introduction was just a small glance into the story behind the words. [here's more on that song and others of his...]
That's what I love. That's what speaks to me in music. The story. The thoughts, emotions, joy, pain, hurt and healing that prompt writing and are poured into the delivery.
Another example:
I have a friend who writes songs. He wrote one about one of the worst panic attack I had that he was present to help me through. The experience itself was awful. Terrifying. Dark. Powerful.
The song that came out of it is simply perfect. It's an excellent song on its own, but for me, and my friend and maybe even for those who really saw where I was during the years I really struggled with depression and anxiety, it meant so much more.
I guess the point in writing all of this is to acknowledge:
1. We all have a story to tell
and
2. Words don't say everything, although they do say a lot
So...let's listen to each other this week. Let's take the time to find and listen to
the story behind the words
I went to a concert on Sunday. That's not really big news, as most who know me know.
It was a Bon Iver concert. That IS big news. He's been on my list for a while now.
It was...
beautiful, visually (outside.Santa Barbara.stage design.lights.) and aurally, and cathartic.
I sat alone--well, alone while surrounded by strangers--and let the music and voice of Justin DeYarmond Edison Vernon (isn't that a fantastic name?) wash over me.
There's something about hearing a favorite song played live that makes me love it all the more.
Especially when it's prefaced with a bit of insight from the artist himself:
"Life is weird. *chuckles* Like how the hell'd we get here? But we're here. And it's weird. This is a song about that. 'Coz , sometimes it's unclear when shit's supposed to be good when it's bad."
Mister Vernon then proceded to play re: stacks, arguably my favorite song. Definitely in the top three.
That's what I love. That's what speaks to me in music. The story. The thoughts, emotions, joy, pain, hurt and healing that prompt writing and are poured into the delivery.
Another example:
I have a friend who writes songs. He wrote one about one of the worst panic attack I had that he was present to help me through. The experience itself was awful. Terrifying. Dark. Powerful.
The song that came out of it is simply perfect. It's an excellent song on its own, but for me, and my friend and maybe even for those who really saw where I was during the years I really struggled with depression and anxiety, it meant so much more.
I guess the point in writing all of this is to acknowledge:
1. We all have a story to tell
and
2. Words don't say everything, although they do say a lot
So...let's listen to each other this week. Let's take the time to find and listen to
the story behind the words
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