I wrote this for my History of Western Music class where we were to supposed to analyze what we listened to in a day and write a reflection. Enjoy!
(Suggested listening while writing: https://soundcloud.com/benknorrmusic/reflections-ben-knorr-1)
Today, the first of March, I woke up and heard birds. This is amazing. Nature in the middle of the city equalized perfectly to be above the regular traffic, was a very nice way to start the day.
Like most days, today I listened to a wide variety of music, in styles ranging from Lebanese tunes, to pop from 2005 (Hilary Duff to be exact, as I was feeling nostalgic). The beauty of music is that the same piece of art can be interpreted in an infinite amount of ways. In a matter of time any piece can transfer from something fresh to something extremely stale. In most cases if said piece is forgotten for long enough, it can be fresh again, in a nostalgic sense. Unfortunately, it is impossible to graph the relationship the listener has with a given piece of music. Emotions are too intricate to fully describe using devices we have invented to describe other devices. Words only describe other words - they never actually describe anything. Therefore it is impossible to fully describe sounds or feelings because they are deeper than what words can portray. This idea comes from one of the most interesting classes I have ever taken, Philosophy and the Image. Even though the majority of the material flew over my head, this course opened my mind to many ideas that I often relate music too.
As I was drifting off to sleep my roommate’s computer made a noise of three descending semitones. This noise in isolation sparked the idea that music is organized sound in organized isolation. This descending line was programed into the computer to represent something, and therefore someone for something organized it. I had heard nothing but breathing and air in the furnace for an hour, and out of nowhere this sound occurred. It sparked my interest and reminded me that I was alive, as ridiculous as that sounds. My mind woke up and started exploring the hidden sounds that have gone unnoticed by my ear in the room. This includes the very light frictional sound of the bed sheets moving as my roommate and I breath, and the little creaks in the walls as the temperature changes. Each little sound represented a larger object, and that to me is music; a microscopic representation of a larger being. This applies both to the performer or the listener. No two situations can be exact so in the way it is interpreted and absorbed the experience is unique representing a moment in time unable to be grasped again. Life is the same way; every moment is one of a kind. Today was the first and last of its kind; there will only be one March 1st, 2016.