Music Series Part 1

by Kaylee

Call me Kaylee of the Tunemill because I could write about music for ten years and never get bored. Of course, while the subject never bores me, I do tire of that too conventional angle of “Here’s a band you’ve probably already heard of, let me tell you how great they are, go look at their songs, have a nice day.” And so, I am thinking of new ways to present my favorite topic because music is always changing, constantly moving and flowing. New artists appear, and groups put out new albums; every day there’s something bright and shiny and fresh for us to observe, so we should look at in as many ways as possible to appreciate the absolute majesty that is music and the people who create it. And while I could write about music for ten years, I know no one wants to read the same thing (with a few words swapped here and there) and that is why I have decided to tell a different story, or really, several stories.

Too often the human aspect of music is forgotten. We lose the emotion that is really put into music when it’s written and performed by the people who feel so strongly about something that they put their time into recording and gifting it to the public. Sometimes I forget these people, but concerts keep me humble and put me in my place. Before I go into a rant, let me say that live music is the reason I live. And while I always enjoy riding around in a car with the windows down and an overplayed pop tune blaring on the radio, there’s magic in seeing someone play music right in front of you that I cannot put into words.

I’ve been in huge crowds, shoving my way forward to get a better look at inexplicably arrogant and famous musicians that Twitter rumors cling to like lint on black jeans, and I’ve been in tiny underground restaurants under dim lights standing next to a man with an acoustic guitar who sings from the heart and who I don’t know by anything other than his first name. The feeling in both situations is potent, and it reminds us that music doesn’t just come out of the blue on any random day; it’s enough to remind us of the hands behind the instruments and the lips behind the vocals.

Take into thought the artist/bands you listen to. Sure, some will display their entire lives to the media in a way that simply cannot be ignored by the press and anyone who owns a TV (nudge, nudge, Taylor Swift dating a new man every two months or the recent whirlwind of the twerking terror that is Miley Cyrus), but maybe there are others, and you’re thinking, “Wow, what do they even look like? How old is (insert name here)?” or maybe you’re just like, “Who even plays guitar for (insert band here)?”.

Now, it’s not necessary to know every detail about every band you’ve ever heard, but sometimes the stories of the musicians can change the way you hear their songs. Maybe that ballad sounded particularly honest because his wife died in a car crash days before he wrote it. Maybe Johnny Cash’s cover of “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails sounded not at all like a cover because he had felt that kind of pain before. (True story. If you haven’t seen Walk the Line, stop reading and watch it now.) I know people see songwriters and anyone the media loves as some sort of romanticized, angel-like creature who as far as you know resides on Mount Olympus, but really, who drew the line between “us” and “them” and who’s to say there should be a line at all? Let’s love our musicians as we love our neighbors; besides, they’re probably more present in your home, heart, and mind than old Mrs. Johnson down the street anyways.

Now that I’ve spoken my piece on that, I’d like to tell you a little about a certain man I respect and admire, who also just happens to be a songwriter, in what will be the first of a new “thing” here on Trendmill, this self-proclaimed article-series.