Nine's blog

Recently I've been talking to a friend about a common interest: music. What started with me needing to show someone the results of half a year's effort in learning to play Prelude To War, quickly turned into a discussion about what music does to us, most of all emotionally.

When I started listening to music actively, it was whatever was being played on the radio or my big sister was into at the time. I remember a tape (yes, I'm old enough for that) with some Guns N' Roses, Michael Jackson and others. But really, I've never been into pop. That was simply what was available to me and to somewhat satisfy the need for music I've had even as a child. Luckily I could quickly move on to movie and TV soundtracks. I don't know anymore which came first, Star Wars or Star Trek, but I can still remember lying on my bed, facing the floor where a fantasy novel lay open, with my head wedged in between my stereo's speakers blasting the Imperial March.

While in terms of genres this was later augmented by Metal and electronic music (mostly Trance), to this day some of my most played tracks and albums are soundtracks. I think it's not just the epicness. It's that the shows these accompany have a story. A story with its ups and downs, its hardships, its races, moments of madness and moments of revelation. All the emotions these entail is reflected in the music. I don't think it's coincidence that I generally like shows where I also like the music, or the other way around. The bottom line is, here the music means something. More than just "I need to release a new track to pay my bills or fulfill a contract".

It's not just having emotions to express is making good music. I feel these emotions, even though my younger self couldn't properly identify them, let alone communicate them. This lack of communication meant that the largest part of my inner self stayed hidden, unable to connect. It didn't help that I was also shy to the point of breaking. People who got to know me later in my life probably cannot imagine how bad I was. Yes, I'm still happy in the role of the observer and I take a while to warm up, but that's nothing compared to the chasm that used to be there between me and the unknown.

To the reader the result of this is probably quite obvious. I on the other hand needed a lot of help until I realized that this made me plain and simply lonely. Unable to talk about emotions, music was the only way to... do something with them. So I let these songs and symphonies and albums take me through them and by cranking up the volume I could make my outside world at least match the inside. At least until someone opened my door and quite rightfully asked whether I lost my mind blasting my music through all the house. I guess, in hindsight, even that was at least some interaction, wasn't it?

Music became my friend and my escape. When life became too much to bear, it was there for me. With its challenging complexity, its moving rhythms, its entrancing melodies. It took my mind away from the turbulent inside, where I couldn't make sense of things and focused it on the outside, where everything was plain to hear. It bought me the time I needed to find real friends, to learn how to talk and how to really live. With all I have learned, it's no longer my only rescue. But it's still there for me. And while now I don't need it as much as I used to, it still brings me joy.