Mixed up more

From the Um-get-to-the-point-Doug department:

I suppose a basic thesis I have at least implied in some posts here is this: I like music. I aspire to get more of it because there’s more out there that’s good than what I could possibly possess. I’m not content merely listening over and over to what I have already. Were I a better writer, that much would have been obvious from the aforementioned entries, with no sense of obligation on my part to clarify it today. Big shock, eh? (And people wonder why I don’t do this for a living.)

It’s too pithy to declare a general like for music; I do appreciate the artform, in my humble opinion, but that means little in and of itself. I haven’t studied it well enough to write about it skillfully (I know what 4/4 time is, and I can still vaguely recall what the sonata form in a symphony is—what could at best be described as a dilettante’s intelligence); that’s probably why I still like it. I have no particular interest in picking apart how it works, to look too deeply under the hood. I can appreciate it sufficiently well with what I know. I don’t mind learning more, of course—my favorite classes at college were the music appreciation lectures about the Romantic period (classical) and about the history of jazz—but those weren’t hardcore deconstruction of music; they were what non-music majors were supposed to understand.

It’s not lost on me how that could seem incongruous, given how I overanalyze myself in these pages, but really it makes perfect sense; the reason I can still like music is because I haven’t taken it to that level, but I have long since abandoned the notion of liking myself (at least in the same way I like music), so there’s no room to lose in that arena. (The self-analysis seeks to find some modicum of explanation for why I am what I am, to draw conclusions—logical or not—that allow me to not despise myself, which it does reasonably well.)

(Get over it, people. I love myself, but I don’t always like myself. You knew what I meant if you’ve read this far. Yeesh. If I haven’t offed myself by this point, it sure as hell ain’t gonna happen now.)

Anyway, I am familiar with more music, and know a certain level of trivia about it, than (as far as I can tell) does the average person. The average person, in this scenario, however, is one who will never fill a 20 GB iPod in his/her lifetime. I probably could have done that before I was old enough to drink. Still, relative to the people who are really into music (the journalists, the critics, the DJs, the guys like the main character in High Fidelity, etc.), I know barely enough to get into the stadium, much less compete on the field. However, those average people around me assume I must know anything they might wish to know or be familiar with whatever song/artist to which they may allude, and the reality is that I know what I know. That may be more than you in certain areas, but what you really like may be something where you possess infinitely more knowledge.

Besides, when it comes to music, the determining factor of whether something is good is whether it appeals to you; you don’t have to understand why you like it, just that you do. There’s no better way to attempt to explain a piece of music than to play it for someone; unlike other art, descriptions always fall short of capturing its essence.

That’s why I like it. And don’t wish to study it too deeply.