The concept of music has been said to exist since the time of the Greeks, and possibly even way before that. With the concept of music constantly evolving up to this day, in the sense that the overlap between what is considered as mere noise and what is considered as music is often debated upon, the concept of music appears to be in a state of flux.
The most common definition of music would be that it is a combination of sounds utilizing elements of rhythm, melody, and harmony, and is often a form of emotional expression.
In spite of the common definition of music being as definite as it sounds, the concept of music can also be said to be both universal and unique. Music can be said to be universal because no matter where you go the concept of music exists. Music is said to span across all cultures ever since the time of the Greeks (possibly even way before), and is constantly evolving up to this day.
On the other hand, music can be said to be unique because certain genres are observed to be more prominent depending on the culture. Moreover, what is considered as music is often dependent on an individual’s personal preferences. When I am looking to update my music library, I often make use of Spotify (a music streaming service) and its suggestion feature to discover more artists which create music similar to that of the songs already present in my music library. At present, amidst the never-ending ocean of audio files, I generally find myself drawn towards the genres of Alternative/Indie Rock, and R&B.
Once I find a particular song or track that I like, I then proceed to add it to my playlist, with the intent of downloading it on my phone so I can listen to it while offline. In this way, the music becomes mine , even if I am well aware that all credit is due to the artists who composed it.
The playlists which I curate for my own listening pleasure are in a way an artistic arrangement on its own, perhaps even an embodiment of who I am as an individual. It follows therefore, that whenever I share my playlists to my friends, it is as if I am sharing a part of myself with them.
When I listen to my music, I often feel as if I am triggering the awakening of my body in such a way that it completely synchronizes with my consciousness. Even if my headphones were only transmitting the sound waves to my ears, my head begins to make bobbing motions to the rhythm of whatever song is playing. It is not as if I need to knowingly instruct myself to move my head while taking note of the song’s tempo. It just does .
Perhaps the motions my head makes can be excused since my ears are on my head, and the distance between my ears and the rest of my head is not remarkable by any means. Therefore it would be no surprise to come to the conclusion that the same vibrations which travel to my ears, travel almost simultaneously to the rest of my head as well. In a sense, my head is at an advantage over the rest of my body in terms of proximity.
However, if I were to consider proximity as an advantage, how then would I explain why my arms and legs begin to flail about (some might call it dancing) in synchronization with the bobbing of my head, in spite of the significant difference in distance? Just as I mentioned earlier, it is not as if I need to consciously instruct my arms and legs to move in such a way, or in a particular direction, all whilemeticulously noting any changes in tempo. It is as if they have a mind of their own.
Whenever I listen to my music while while taking a walk, or perhaps getting some work done, it is as if my music becomes one with my consciousness. Once I start listening to my music, my emotions, as well as my overall mood, seem to reflect the energy given off by a particular type of music. For instance, if I were listening to my playlist entitled Ice Cream (more relaxed and laid-back alternative/indie songs), I would immediately begin to feel relaxed and carefree. I often find myself listening to this playlist on early mornings, in order to start my days with a positive disposition.
On the other hand, if I were listening to my playlist entitled Muscle Cars (more alternative/indie rock, and R&B/soul songs), I would immediately begin to feel more energetic and ambitious -- as if I can conquer the world. I often find myself listening to this playlist on the way home after a long day (as if going through that day was an act of valor on its own), or when I have a long night ahead of me, and I need all the focus I can muster in order to get my work done as efficiently as possible.
The more I think about it, my enjoyment or appreciation of my music is not dependent on where I hear it. I have previously elaborated on the more private setting of listening to music with headphones on, however there have been instances wherein I would listen to my music above the recommended volume in order to feel the music even more. In these moments, some of the sound waves and vibrations escape the confines of my head and veer into the more public space surrounding me. Nevertheless, I still find that the proximity between my music and my ears is intimate enough to still be considered as mine.
In some instances however, I come across songs from my playlist or music library in a more public setting, such as on the radio, or at a restaurant. During these occasions, the act of listening to what I consider as my music becomes a more collective and shared experience. Yet I often find myself exclaiming “hey it’s my song!” in spite of these encounters being more public in nature.
Interestingly enough, the mere act of hearing my music (even if I am unable to pinpoint the source) already causes me to bob my head, or tap my foot to the rhythm without me being fully aware that it is even happening. In these cases, proximity is no longer on my side, and yet my body, as well as my consciousness acts as if the music never left my system to begin with. It is as if the music left an imprint on my system, and remains dormant until it is awakened by the musical stimulus.
I now realize that my music does not have to be on my phone or on my playlist in order for it to be considered as mine . Regardless of whether I hear my music on the radio, at a restaurant, or perhaps even as a soundtrack in a movie, it is not the proximity, but rather the impression that song imparts on me, that allows me the privilege of calling that song mine.