She Don't Lie

I've been thinking about music lately. Not any particular band, song, or lyric in particular. Just music overall.

There are few pursuits that have such the capacity so incite particular emotions and trigger long-forgotten memories.

Ever hate a song because it reminds you of an ex? That's the power of music.

I found a really neat quote by Aldous Huxley the other day: ""After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music."

One of the biggest news stories in Dallas revolves around rap music. A couple of weeks ago, two rival gangs called a one-night truce at some night club gathering. The DJ played a song that incites members to flash their respective gang sign (the song Throw Yo Hood Up). At the end of the night, the truce was broken and a couple of bodies lay still in the parking lot.

Obviously, I don't condone gangs and violence. But I have a hard time laying all the guilt on the music.

I absolutely love rap music. Maybe not the particular style that has been sung the past several years, but I love it nonetheless. When I was in junior high and high school, that's all I listened to. The other night, Melissa and I came across and old re-run of Yo! MTV Raps. It was a fun jump into the music of my misspent youth.

I still can't find another breed of music that is as intelligent, socially aware, and more full of anxiety, angst, and repression.

And I can dance to it.

[As I write this, I thought that the only other music that fits that description is that of Rilo Kiley. But then I remembered that Jenny Lewis was quoted as saying, "I'm an Eazy E girl!" No wonder I love her so.]

One of the local columnists virtually suggested an out-right ban of this particular brand of music. Because that's going to solve all of our problems. His reaction is understandable; his parents probably hated the music he listened to as a teenager. But I also remember a pretty heinous crime caused by a particular song the Beatles put out.

I've also been thinking about how certain songs come into existence.

Most of the time, it comes out of a need to purge and escape.

Purge a lost love. Escape from the reality of life.

When I was in fourth grade, I think, every kid in school had to watch some film about the dangers of drugs. I only remember the first few minutes of the film. It showed scenes from Woodstock - the bands and concert-goers taking drugs. They showed Crosby, Still, and Nash playing some of their songs while the crowd passed around some doobage. They also showed Eric Clapton's performance of "Cocaine".

I had not heard this music before. I was fascinated. I had no idea what cocaine was but this song was awesome. Thanks, Nancy. I never would have said "yes", but you turned me on to some pretty good music.

Again, obviously, I don't condone the consumption of drugs. But, I do find a bit of hypocrisy in myself by enjoying the music borne from such consumption.

Be that as it may, I enjoy the music that rips the scabs off. That's the only way I know to express the inexpressible.