I had a panic attack today, over something silly. It wasn’t fun but I survived it. What was it about? Music. I know it’s strange. An old friend of mine is trying to make a comeback and my head went into a dizzy spin. Then I got talking about my non-existing boyfriend to a friend. He might exist or not, I haven’t met him yet, yet. I then started panicking. Would he understand the love for music I have? Would he realise that between books and music, that they have had my heart for way longer than any person?
I know that sounds cheesy. But this worries me. I have a real bad music addiction that I cannot describe to other people. In some ways it is exactly like a drug. I listened to one of Mumford and Sons’ new songs – The Wolf and I got anxious, what if it’s too different for people to like? I know it’s not my problem, but it becomes mine, because that’s how much I love music. I still don’t have a comment on their new stuff, it might just grow on me. I gauge people on how they respond on how much I babble about a certain song and I especially judge a guy on how he responds to my music comments or need to see of bands. I have to say those guys have been few and far between. People don’t like hearing Kendrick and Gangs of Ballet in the same sentence.
There’s a lot of people out there who understand the commitment one has towards writing and reading, so it’s usually acceptable to allocate time spent on that. But when it comes to music, they deem it unhealthy if you are not a musician yourself. I involuntarily started crying the other day when a musician went so off key that I had to sit down at a concert. I felt sick when a sax player went one octave higher and the lead singer went in another direction at a gig. Most people feel music, I breathe it. As a child I spent every waking and asleep hour with a radio on. There was always a radio on, not because I hate silence, but because of the need to hear music.
As young teenagers most of my friends had a boyfriend. Surprise, I didn’t, I was made fun of and was told that I would marry words and have music as a lover. I laughed, thinking this is an absurd notion. Now, now it makes sort of sense. Music has been my constant companion. The right music at the right time, to lift my mood or to accompany my anger. Be it jazz, the blues, the classics and whatever else I listen to. It’s always been there, I hear music when I do something. In the background of my head there’s a song playing while I think of anything else. I do sometimes annoy my family by singing whatever is in my head, this may be the same phrase over and over again for the rest of the day. I did that the other day, I sang the first sentence of Milky Chance’s Stolen Dance.
I have certain playlists for writing, this I keep on changing, I really can’t tell you which playlist was used where. However if you repeat an album for too long you the lyrics may slip up into what you’re thinking. I once accidentally named a short story ‘In the Light of Day’, it bothered me for the whole evening until I realised it was a Jeremy Loops song. So the practice of having an album constantly rotating has gone, because it becomes the norm. I try to change up my music as often now.
If music was a real person, I would be clingy sometimes and not that interested or impressed sometimes. This comes back to the question, would he really understand? I am not sure, maybe that’s why I fall for musicians. They do get it. Do they? I remember the hours I spent on facebook talking just about music. I mean hours, not the mere 2 hours whilst Jon Savage was on air. I mean hours. Maybe it’s because I sometimes behave like a rockstar – said by a musician – or maybe it’s just for the love of music. But future person who I may be interested, please be aware that I care for music just as much as I care for you.