I grew up with music…surrounded by it, immersed in it…I would go to sleep with a cassette playing on my tape recorder and wake up to the sound of music. I played with it in the background, danced to it, cried with it, laughed with it, sang along with it. Music filled me. More than that, it was almost a tangible part of me – like my heart, or coursing through my veins mixed with my blood.
During my formative years, my music choices were influenced by my parents. Musicians like Perry Como and Tina Charles ruled in our house, as did old hindi film music and ghazals by Jagjit and Chitra Singh. During my rebellious teens, I rocked Bon Jovi and Pink Floyd, fell in love with Madonna and Michel Jackson, and sashayed to Right Said Fred. As those erratic hormones loosened their hold over me, I learnt to appreciate the classical notes of Beethoven and Mozart, Yanni and Kenny G.
These days, music’s all about rap and hip hop, which I don’t dig that much, and somehow, it’s losing it’s tangibility. It’s now something I listen to while driving the car and occasionally at work, when I want to tune out the rest of the office and focus on what’s in front of me. Or for a few hours when I have the house to myself.
This loss of tangibility isn’t all about me. It’s also because the husband and I have very different musical tastes, and different listening styles. I like music to envelop the air around me, fill the house with it’s melodious strains. The husband prefers to get lost in his own private world with his music, blaring it straight into his ears through his headphones. It’s been difficult, almost impossible, to get these two worlds to meet.
On the few occasions when I’ve tried to initiate him to music my way, it’s ended in dissatisfaction. He turns the sound down until it’s little over being background noise – I mean, who listens to Another One Bites the Dust with the volume turned down? That song is meant to be blasted through the speakers. I like listening to each song on an album in full and in sequence. He listens to a bit of the song, then suddenly remembers another great track on the album and skips to it. This back and forth continues, leaving me unfulfilled….unable to immerse myself in the music.
And so I’ve given up on him coming over to my side, and sadly on music. Listening to it on headphones isn’t anything like listening to it on a music system, with the volume turned up, the thump of the drum underlining your heartbeat, the strains of the piano taking you through a whole range of emotions in one magical piece.
Sadly, the music has…not died, just faded away. Leaving me unmoored, if you will. Adrift in the sea of life without my constant companion.