I wish I loved music. I wish that I could feel the nuances of the art and appreciate in full clarity of emotions that the notes evoke. Instead I have a passing interested. Music is something that I am familiar with, that I have to be reminded that it is a friend of mine. Maybe it is because I have little talent, and no memory for the art. I like songs. I like having music on in the background, but it is not necessity in my life.
I love the lyrics. And I am pretty sure that if I could remember tunes, I would love them too. Lyrics and the weaving of the tune into out right words and thoughts make me appreciate the writers behind the black and white notes. When left to my own devices I am not sure I can appreciate the tune as much without the lyrics. Without the poetry to explain the emotions brought to my ears on the notes. Some great tunes are indivisible from their spoken poetry. I can see how it is a little sad to confine a tune to one set of words, to one emotion, but at the same time I am able to finally speak the language of music with the words to guide me.
Jazz is one of the few music genres I can get into. I love the anti rhythms or the surprise of notes that tumble from the instruments, cascading in unexpected ways. I love the bluesy voices that seem to be song from the heart itself. I don’t know quite how to explain the jazz that I love. I feel the feelings in a rawness that matches the pure voices heavy with the raspiness of emotion.
Classical music is another type of music that reaches me. It sets a mood and holds me in it. It is there, but not overpowering. It inspires my thoughts but does not overwhelm them. I like the intricate rhythms and brilliant musicians that play these rhythms. I love the layers of instruments and sounds compiling into a masterpiece.