So when I was a kid, riding back and forth to school and such in an old green station wagon (not cooler than the minivan, not lamer than the minivan though a dog did once puke on my leg in the back section) I listened to the radio and imagined that the singers were actually at the radio station, performing live.
These days, when I listen to music, I imagine it being performed live, even though I’m not that crazy about live shows. The older I get, the more unseemly the live performing of music seems.
Anyway, if the song I’m listening to is particularly good I imagine *myself* performing it, in front of a crowd of people who are acquaintances, but there aren’t many of my loved ones in the audience.
No idea what that’s all about other than some underlying insecurity and fantasies about blindsiding people with a talent they weren’t aware of.
(I keep hoping to blindside *myself* with a surprise talent. I want to subconsciously say “Shazam!” and when the smoke clears I’m awesome at bowling, or carpentry or accepting myself for what I am and making *that* work for me. )
Books and TV and movies and stories, the ones that I love anyway, leave me with a small new way of looking at the world. For better or for worse, I get new ideas and new perspectives and new things I want to rip off.
When I listen to music that I love though, my world changes in a more abstract way. Good songs give my world a new pair of shoes, a new piece of furniture, a new brand of toothpaste.
The best songs put something cool in the places where I live that may fade into the background but never quite disappears. A plucked string never stops humming, the stars from a flashbulb never quite stop popping.
Being a storyteller, I’m surprised that I don’t tend to create little videos for the songs I hear. The sound and attitude of music has played a big part in the tone of a lot of my stories though.
I don’t listen to as much music as I used to. Podcasts dominate. For *those* performances/anecdotes etc I do picture the hosts and storytellers and interviewees. If I’ve never seen the person with my own eyes, the visual I cast for them rarely comes close to reality. Just like with stories, I go away from good podcasts with a new way of of looking at myself.
I’d like to still be able to call this a work blog, so have a little bit of not music related script:
ONE: Our caveman, Crunk (sorry) is sitting on a rock, looking bored and surly as he munches on some dry barley from a crude clay jar. He has the jar on the rock next to him as he looks at the wad of grain in his hand. He does not appear to be enjoying it much. Maybe he has a little burning black squiggly line over his head. There are some flowers growing around the base of the rock.
CAPTION: Many historians believe that we first consumed beer when we were still hunter/gatherers, before agriculture, when barley was picked and eaten raw rather than baked as bread.
TWO: Crunk lights up as a nice looking cavelady goes walking by. She seems oblivious to him though.
THREE: Picked flowers in hand and cartoon hearts around his head, Crunk takes off after her leaving the jar abandoned on the rock.
FOUR: Close on the jar getting rained on.
CAPTION: One theory is that a forgotten jar of barley was wettened…
FIVE: Same shot; close on the jar as the sun shines down.
CAPTION: …resulting in fermentation.