We’re all in weird times now. These current days are abnormal for each of us in our own way, but I think it’s common that our responses to isolation and fear are, well, a little dark.
I know there will always be people in the world who have it much harder than I do, and right now that includes those who have to work directly in the fight against COVID-19. Health care workers and other essential employees of all kinds must have an unfathomable level of stress. And that’s not even mentioning people who have food and housing instability, or who are finding this crisis to be just another thing piled on some already desperate situation. My life is relatively easy: I’m still getting paid, and I can mostly stay at home with my family.
Nonetheless, we’re all seeking ways to alleviate stress, and the need is a different kind than our typical day-to-day coping strategies are made to address.
Music is one thing that we all have in common, and that we all can access in our own way. Music has, since the beginning of known history, provided a source of relief as one of its main functions. It brings humans together both physically and emotionally; it entertains, it distracts, it tells stories, it reminds us of good in the past, the present and the future. I like to imagine all those front-line workers grabbing a moment to play a favorite song on a 5-minute break, or enjoying a familiar playlist while cleaning the store in protective gear. A spot of light in the dark.
Yesterday was Saturday. Technically it was the weekend between the last week of classes for my spring semester and finals week. Remote teaching makes it feel different (at a minimum), but it was also a day that seemed a little blah when I got up, as many do.
I need to take a brief departure from the narrative here to address something that’s crucial to the main thesis, in my case. I have pain. Chronic pain. I know, I know, that’s a term that’s loaded and problematic and vague. I agree. I don’t know an easier way to put it, and I don’t need to take a deep dive into the intricacies of it here. I just need to mention that it plays into the darkness that hovers around the edges for me personally. I’m not terribly depressed, and I’m not in danger of losing my will to go on or anything. However, I’m unable to do a lot of the things that used to bring me happiness, at least at the same level. It’s difficult to take advantage of hobbies and activities that should be ideal distractions at at time like this, because said activities make me hurt more.
So, enough of that. Suffice it to say, music endures. Music is always there, to do all those things I mentioned earlier: entertaining, lifting up, reminding, filling spaces that need filled. On days when I feel that blah a little more than I’d like, I can use a record or a playlist as a kind of healing. I can focus on it and be very deliberate with songs and sounds, or I can let it surprise me and take me on a journey. I’ve always used it this way, but in these current days it’s perhaps more essential than ever (if that’s possible).
Back to yesterday. Like most days, I was up before the rest of my family. This is partially because the longer I lie in bed, the more my body complains. But I also really like being up and having time with just my own brain, coffee, reading, and music.
I started with some records: first Paul Westerberg/Grandpaboy’s Stereo/Mono, which came to mind because yesterday was also supposed to be Record Store Day (but that’s another blog post). Perfectly ragged, messy songs to hum along to from the couch while reading Twitter and caffeinating. As the morning continued, I was thinking how I don’t play a lot of my 7” singles enough. So I went there, and while sitting in the sun letting the day warm up I enjoyed some Superchunk, Flesh For Lulu, Jason Molina and even Marvin Gaye.
Later in the day, I was in the kitchen baking some coffee cake. Baking is a good use of social isolation time too, as we all know. There’s a CD player in the kitchen, so I dug into my discs to find things I hadn’t played in a long time. I landed on Neil Young’s 1994 “Sleeps With Angels” first, and man, am I glad I did. I would guess I haven’t heard that album in at least fifteen years, and it sounded vital, beautiful, and frankly, important. I recall lots of critical dialogue (about the particular moment of Cobain’s death, etc.) upon the release of this one, and I’m happy to see that it doesn’t feel stuck in a moment; it holds up better than a large percentage of Neil’s catalog. After that I threw on a Dwight Yoakam greatest hits compilation, which coincided with the doors being opened and my family going in and out as the day warmed up and rolled on. It too was an excellent reminder of an artist who is consistently better than I recall. Such songs, and such players.
While the cake baked, I watched a live stream of one of my favorite songwriters, Bill Janovitz of Buffalo Tom. Sitting on the front porch in the wind, I listened to him singing from his basement in Massachusetts. Later in the evening my whole family watched a benefit concert on TV while relaxing in the living room, and the musical performances were a great reminder of how we’re all connected by this mess, worldwide (even if some of the sound quality was less than excellent). Even the mighty Rolling Stones have to interact via Zoom, so I guess we can too.
This morning it’s back to coffee, of course. Now it’s accompanied by a Spotify “Sunday Morning” playlist carefully curated and shared by some good friends. Mellow sounds are definitely Sunday sounds. I’m fortunate to be acquainted with so many people who recognize the value of music like I do, and I love hearing something new in the middle of several familiar tracks.
None of this is revolutionary thinking, of course. I’m not telling you something you don’t already know. The whole point here is that we all use music to provide some light in our lives. My hope is that maybe many of us are becoming more conscious on a regular basis of just how vital it is. Whatever else fails, music won’t. It’s almost like it’s immune to any kind of darkness, even a worldwide pandemic. Seems like magic to me.
