Giving Thanks (For Music)

With Thanksgiving upon us, this is the season of giving thanks and appreciating all that we have. With that in mind, I thought I would take a moment today to stop and think about what in the world of music I appreciated most in 2021. That would be...

My memories.

This year, more than most, I have spent a lot of time thinking about and listening to the music of my past. It was prompted by the number of albums celebrating milestone anniversaries, which you may have noticed in the increased number of essays about them, but it went beyond that. Talking about older records led me to listen to more of them, which then got me thinking about the different relationship I have with music now, as opposed to then.

I pulled records off the shelf I haven't listened to in a decade or more, and it astounded me how much from them I remembered, as opposed to the records of similar quality I listen to these days. Music made a deeper impact in those days, and I'm not entirely sure how much of that to attribute to the psychology of when they were heard. I know our teenage years are when taste is shaped, and when we are most susceptible, but I don't think that fully explains it all.

There is the issue of our heads filling up past the saturation point as more and more music is released and listened to. There is the issue of how we listen to the music, with it becoming more disposable as it shifted to being digital and free. There is the issue of how many chances any record gets these days to make its mark on us.

There is also an issue of life not feeling like it has the same kind of moments anymore. As I was writing those essays about old albums, I can remember what I was thinking and feeling as I heard those albums for the first time, or what moods they were used to pull me out of. Most of them still serve that same purpose. I can't say the same thing about almost any album from recent years. If I think about what I felt when I pressed play on any of them, there isn't anything to find. Part of that is due to this role as a critic, where I'm approaching music from a more analytical mindset, but I think part of it also is explained through psychology.

Much like how there is a saying about there only being seven types of stories, with all of recorded media being variations of them, I'm of the belief there are only so many forms of emotional response. Once we fill those with albums to assuage us, there isn't room for more albums to fall into the same role. Not unless they are outright better than the ones we drew the blueprints from, which we know is difficult, given what we already said about our formative years. That doesn't happen often.

So I am thankful to have the memories of those albums, what led to them, and what they do to me. Without them, there are times when it would be harder to find the right outlet to vent toxic thoughts and feelings. Knowing what works, and what has always worked, comes with a comforting knowledge it will work again when it's needed. Certain triggers are unavoidable, but they are easier to stare down when you know there is something waiting to pull you back up out of that darkness.

Those memories also serve to remind me why I keep searching out new music. Just because those moments are harder to find now doesn't mean they are gone. Songs and albums will still come along that move me, that say something I need to hear at just the right time. Music is necessary, and you never know what you're going to need until you hear it. At least I don't.

Having memories of the power of music gives me hope that the next one is still waiting for me around the next bend. I'm not a person of much faith, but I do still have faith in music, and that stems from the experiences of my past.

That's what I'm thankful for.