The Meaning of Music

I have always been moved by music. I realize that sounds cheesy, but it's true. Music and writing speak to me. I've heard many songs in my life that express exactly what I'm feeling at the time I'm hearing them. Usually these songs become my favorites. I buy the CD and play the song over and over again. I sing at top volume -- grateful that I can finally so artfully express my current state of being... even if I am borrowing someone else's artful expression...I suspect that this is not something unique to me...but that it's actually sort of a universal product of the human condition... we're always looking for things that speak to us, that say something about our experience. This is why the stories on This American Life are always so compelling...it's actually a requirement that any stories aired reflect something about the broader human condition, not just the author's funny story. Maybe this is also one reason why people obsess over actors and other celebrities... because said celebrities have somehow expressed something their fans only wish they could have expressed. Anyway, I digress.

Music.

This morning, I rediscovered Finoa Apple's "Paper Bag." This was the song from her second CD that I instantly fell in love with. It was 1999. I was in the middle of my senior year of college and while I was in love with Neil, I was close enough to the times of romantic despair (many involving Neil) and I was still figuring out who I was and what I was about and this song was so smart and... well...artfully expressed, that I was hooked.

"Hunger hurts and I want him so bad, oh it kills, cuz I know I'm a mess he don't want to clean up. I've got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold. Hunger hurts, but starving works when it costs too much to love."

So, this morning, on my way to work, I put the CD in my car stereo and cranked the volume and sang Paper Bag, and even though I relate much less to Fiona Apple's particular dilemma at this point in my life than when I first heard the song, it was still awesome. I belted it out in my loudest i'm-alone-in-the-car-and-i-don't-care-how-i-sound voice and it felt great. Once you have been impacted by a song, it's sort of like a gift you get to keep with you for the rest of your life. When I'm 78, I imagine I'll still be able to put Paper Bag in the stereo and sing at top volume. The songs of my life are a part of me and pieced together, I think they might tell an interesting story.