I just went to see Pirate Radio, and as movies goes it’s a fine experience. It’s neither great or bad, it’s just ok. (For most I’d say wait for the DVD, but for those who just like movies it might be worth the price of a matinee.) Watching this film, however, got me thinking about music in general.
There seems to be this myth that music is this mystical, salvific experience. Now I know this is true for some. I know people who without music would cease to survive, or at the very least their quality of life would be greatly reduced. But this narrative of the omnipotence of music, which is often presented as universal, has never really connected with me.
I like music. I appreciate its emotive properties, but music never saved me my soul. There are no songs that have changed my life, and no albums that list among my most significant influences. Again I like music, I just don’t understand the starry-eyed worship of so many.
But then again this is how I feel about a good story. Stories, whether in books or movies, have the power to transport me to another place. In my youth I may never have really deeply immersed myself in the world of music, but from the well of story I have often drunk deeply. To this creative output I am deeply indebted, and I would defend the power of the written word as many defend music.
While I may not get the music devotion of so many, I get the power of creativity to move us. I’m thankful that the creations of others have the power to speak to us on a deep and real level.
I know this may seem random, but I celebrate the power of creativity even if those creative expressions don’t always reach me. If you have the power to create, I think you should. It’s good for the soul, even if that soul isn’t mine.
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