Someone once asked me, “Are you happy?” I was, so I replied in the affirmative, followed by, “Why do you ask?” She told me, “Because you’re singing. People sing when they’re happy.”
Without even realizing it, I was singing to myself. I don’t remember if I was actually happy or I was just trying to float on a cloud for a bit. Regardless, the point stuck with me. Happiness and music were intrinsically interconnected.
Some might argue that pain and music can also be deeply linked. But that’s the link: pain, not unhappiness. What is closer to the truth is that unhappy people who make music are looking for a release to their pain. Music gets them there. It is an outlet for their pain. Perhaps these folks do not find happiness after finishing their music, but at the very least they are lost in the music while they make it. For example, guys like Peter Ham, Kurt Cobain and Elliot Smith were tortured artists at the time of their deaths (God rest their souls), yet they chose to pursue music. My suspicion is that they felt that release of pain – not unlike a drug – when they played.
I understand many may disagree with the above paragraph, but because music is so deep, complex, diverse, let us continue to find why music holds such a profound effect on us rather than its connection to happiness for the moment.
When I play, all of my body, belly, eyes, ears, mind and soul engage. I have felt nothing else in life that makes all of who I am feel alive at the same time. My fingers move, air rushes from my belly through my throat, I am both listening and creating something. When I finish, my music evaporates; therefore, I cherish each note as it occurs that much more.
When I listen to live music, the sight and sound of the music hits me at once, much like a movie. Everything else around seems to fade into the background as I watch someone perform. In hearing someone else’s music live, I get to peer into the musician’s soul for a moment. You hear the lyrics, you feel the emphasis of the notes, you see how carefully the music is crafted. It can tell a story, describe an emotion, show utter humor, or rejoice in the music, among many other objectives.
A party is a celebration of life. It is no coincidence that music is invariably found at all parties (with strange exceptions). And people dance – they dance because the sound and rhythm of the music dictates that their body moves. And there is where music transcends even the magic of the movies. Emotions can flow from the stories movies, but they don’t dictate how a body moves as well. Furthermore, a movie is a single story, capturing a slice of life. People sometimes ask what a song means. I answer them, “Whatever it means to you.” It meant something to the artist at the time it was written, but once it is in someone else’s ear it can be taken in any context a listener finds oneself.
The party description is also the argument for happiness. If a party is the celebration of life – and one is happy to be alive – and music goes hand-in-hand with a party, then music and happiness are, in fact, interconnected. One is happy, so one sings or listens and dances to music. One is listening to music, and it makes one happy because the soul begins to dance. If one is unhappy at a single moment, you will rarely – if ever – see that person singing.
I’ll give you dissenters this much: if you are unhappy with life, you will not be a huge music fan. For the record, vice versa is not the truth here. Look, I argue for those who are unhappy with life to listen to more music. I think if you do you will see, hear and feel more energy in your life. That energy may not cure your unhappiness, but it certainly will bridge gaps in your life. You will feel more humanity. You will be able to feel a connectedness with other people without having to explain yourself, without owing anyone anything.
Music is the celebration of life. Embrace it, sing it, share it. Let happiness ring throughout your being.
