Music

So I went to see Prince last night. My first arena show in years. (Years!)

My ears are still ringing. (Ringing!)

I had a good time, mostly because it was an event. (An event!) It wasn't good music, although the music wasn't bad. But it was hard to judge precisely how good or bad it was, because the mix was terribly loud and awfully muddy. (I'm talking from the perspective of a former musician and heavy metal fan, so when I say it was too loud and really muddy, really, I have the experience to say it was too loud and really muddy.)

There was a time when music was really important to me. Making it, listening to it. In fact, I can remember being mad at Prince because he was doing what I was doing - writing and producing his own songs, playing more than one instrument - but he was infinitely more successful. Sure, he was better than me. He had (has) a great voice. He writes great songs. He's a great showman. But he's not a great musician; rather, he's a jack-of-all-trades guy, a journeyman guitarist.

Anyway, music. For a lot of people, music really matters. They listen to it all the time on the radio, internet, CD, and portable hard drive, via old-fashioned analog, AIFF, MP3, etc. Just this multiplicity, this persistence, of music makes me shake my head in admiration. (Which has seen more recording formats - music or the printed word?) My Mom recently asked me to transfer her old 45s to CD so she could listen to them. (Tennessee Ernie Ford, anyone?) When I was up at Sierra Camp, we sang songs and (some of us) made music. Music is everywhere, it seems - live and recorded, vocal and instrumental. And people get passionate about it, perhaps more passionate than about other things that seem more important because they involve life and death. (Would you rather discuss the stolen election of 2000 or your favorite Beatles album?)

Still, despite my own musical past and my continuing aural tendencies, I find music taking a side seat to other things that matter more to me now. Political engagement. Writing. Figuring out what to do with my life. Health. All of these things seem more important than hearing a good tune on the radio, or staying current with the Billboard Top 100.

Except when music transports me to the past, as it often does. Songs I knew from youth. Tunes I associate with certain people. Then, suddenly, music really matters. It reminds me about who I am and where I've been, which I forget at my peril.