An Attempt to Define Music

September 26, 2010
Music is a color that cannot be seen and yet it paints you from the inside out. It is the only drug that you cannot overdose on. Music is man’s metaphorical tower of Babel to the heavens. It is the battery to the human system. It is Mardi Gras between your ears. It is a comforter when you have no one else. Music is the whip and we are the helpless slaves. If you deny this, then you deny every involuntary bob of your head to that hypnotic beat. Every swell of your voice, every snap of your fingers, every twitch of your toe tap is a testimony to the influence Music has over you.

Musical preference is like your own personal identity. Just as no two finger prints are the same, so is the unique musical taste of every individual. You may rejoice in the high shouts of Gospel. Or sift in the pit-deep knock of Alternative. You may find yourself gyrating to the addictive hooks of Pop. Or are you drawn to the overwhelming keys of Soul? You can attach yourself to the magnetic trance of Jazz. And retire to the electrically smooth realm of Indie. Whatever your choice, the lyrics of these genres bite into the conscience. They trigger such emotional powers we never knew we possessed. Music drives us to dance – the most potent form of self-expression. It liquefies anger, fuels joy, and numbs sadness. Like acid, music will disintegrate your connection to reality. Like your soul, it can never be dissected from your body. Music cannot be touched, smelled, or seen. You can, however, hear it, feel it, and play it. But above all, you know it. You know it so well that even if you’re stuck in a room of complete silence, you can still hear it pulsing internally, daring you to break out into inspired dance, tears, or song. No matter what your reaction, the definition remains the same: This is Music.

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