Thou Art the King of Glory

I’ve noticed something for a while. This may possibly just be me but I genuinely think it is telling of a much vaster generational experience than some may give it credit for.

I’ve noticed the vast amounts of time we spend listening to music.

We absolutely consume it. It fills every waking (and sleeping) void of time we as young people possess. Even moments dense with activity and interaction are lined with undertoned communal tunes. At a party or in a cafe or at the gym. I’ve begun to realize that the music that accompanies me begins to mimic my life, my story. I feel my emotions are innately expressed and almost possessed by certain songs, like if I want to reenter that one experience I must reroute to the adjacent song where I might borrow back my experience. Inversely, my adjacent experience begins to define songs, no longer new in their expression and interpretation.

I wonder what music truly brings to daily life. I almost feel a certain enhanced vision comes from listening to a good song. Something about the energy, the implanted identity and resonance, speaks to a higher, continuous motive for one’s daily actions. Like how a dream brings hope for every interaction because a greater rhythm instructs one’s gaze. It brings hope, for something. Whatever that may be, even the mere hope of expression in the complete depravity of one’s feelings. Hope that humanity shares more than just space, that we share emotions. We relate through emotions, shared emotions, expressed in unison through the lyrics of a song. I don’t know about you but music has many times revealed to me my own humanity, precisely because my experience is captured in complete clarity by a stranger. That’s kind of incredible.