It’s been a while. No, really, like months.
I guess life happened enough to send the blog to the back burner. But blog I must about some things.
I have a thing for music. It’s more than a crush and just less than an undying love. Music is like men to me. I do not like all that out’s there. I hate some of it. Sometimes I want it to read my mind and sometimes it seems like it does. I daydream because of it. It has even made me cry. Some of it is fake and some of it is real. I have my guilty pleasures. And I have bought a lot of it because I thought it looked nice.
I could go on and on.
People ask me my favorite artists/songs all the time. Always and forever on the list are my two younger brothers and their work. Of course, big sis has to like her baby brothers’ music. No? No. I was not raised to like anything just because.
Hence the title of this post: I’m not partial, it’s good music.
I played french horn for a really long time. I learned to read music. I practiced my craft. I got bored and I put it down. I loved what I did, but very little of it came from a creative place. I was not the composer or the arranger. I don’t even consider myself to have been a good performer.
That is the beginning of real music for me. The creation. To take inspiration from the ether, bring it to a perceptive medium, shape and mold it, THEN expose it (and yourself) to an audience… Yes, I do consider music to be an artist’s medium.
But back to my brothers’ music and why I am not partial. I am proud of their ability to put energy into a craft in which they have not been formally trained. I am in awe of the raw and untainted talent that comes out of each of them. I am amazed at the bravery they have exhibited in their pursuits.
I also have VERY high standards as far as they are concerned. My older brother, younger brothers and I were raised to be accountable to each other at the highest degree which has often resulted in a mutual sentiment that one or the other is a severe biting pain in the ass. And in our house, we were raised to have a discriminating ear when it comes to music. This combination is quite the tough one. Technically, I am not allowed to like my brothers’ music because they are my brothers. Technically, I am supposed to chop to shreds if I see something wrong with it.
Technically, it’s good music.
I had been searching for something to break my writer’s block that resulted in my reclusive blogger behavior. I was listening to my youngest, brother, Jordan’s music and I got the effect that I like to get from music: the subconscious head bob, the movement in the music that connects to something you are going through, the feeling like the bass climbed into your chest and took over for your heartbeat…I can go on. I sit at a desk with an awesome view composed of white painted brick. Good music makes that bearable. Music brings life to the photos, artwork, origami, and sticky notes that I used to dress up the drab surroundings. Good music keeps my mind from being blocked in by the figurative and literal brick walls. Walls that absolutely do not inspire my scientific creativity.
The point is, I needed something to write about. I needed to expose some truth. I needed to take my mind off of other things. Listening to my brother’s music fulfilled those needs.
Both of my brothers’ are two of my favorite artists. A couple by the baby boy are posted below.
I’m not partial. It’s good music.