I will now attempt to write something deep and meaningful, I will probably end up sounding pretentious.
Music is often referred to as a drug; such a slogan is regularly written across t-shirts or other attire. I always have found this concept weird, so the ‘music = drug’ cliché has become one I don’t partially like. Yes, music is addictive and one can often feel like something is missing when going for a long time without it. Yet music can do little damage. One never reads of tragic stories like “A man’s life was ruined when he became addicted to reggae”, or “Teenager dies of dubstep overdose”. To me, music has nothing but positive implications; while I do think some music is rather unpleasant, it is never really harmful.
I remember writing about Chapel Club, I spoke about how it was like a drug, how it was energising. However, since my Chapel Club listening stats have reduced, I have not started going into a withdrawal state. I think a new metaphor for music needs to be found, something that describes music wholly, and not just have similar aspects to it.
While sitting on a train, I was thinking about this. I’m sure I had the sound of Slow Club, or one other of my common favourites, in my ears. I thought that music could be thought of as a religion. I know this is also a commonly used cliché, though it could work. As an atheist, I have no religion, and while I can’t believe in a god, I can understand while people want to have something to believe in. This may sound a bit tacky, but I think music has always been the thing I believe in. To me, it has provided whatever relief people say God brings. In a sense, my version of praying would be listening to ‘Yeah, So?’ on a regular basis. That could also mean that a music-lover’s equivalent of the Holy Spirit would be that feeling in your gut and heart when you hear a truly brilliant song.
Another way of describing music could be comparing it to love. There are songs that you just completely fall for. I will now just take the time to slip in yet another Slow Club reference. When I first heard Christmas TV, my jaw dropped. I was in awe. It seemed like I missed out on so much without that song. In fact, I adored it so much, I listened to it on repeat for about fifty times, and then I realised I should probably put some variation into my life. I really do think music has really similar aspects to love, such as that fluttery feeling when you hear your favourite song. Also, love has little harmful effects. A break-up can be tragic, but, unless your name is Romeo and you happen to have girlfriend called Juliet, you’re not likely to die from a love overdose.
To sum this up, I haven’t really done much. Maybe calling music a drug isn’t the best description, but then you may argue that calling it a religion or comparing it to love isn’t either; I doubt that Charles and Rebecca’s mothers were virgins, or were called Mary, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to marry an MP3 file.