Music Consumerism

Tonight at Ipsento - the best coffee house in Chicago, hands down - I took a break from the jazz in my headphones to listen to the music chosen by the baristas and was struck by the thought that it's been a very long time since I experienced music - as in, experienced music on someone's terms other than my own.

I'll never forget sitting with my dad in the upper balcony, gazing, dumbfounded, over the rail as I watched the musicians of the local symphony orchestra perform on a bleary fall day. I couldn't make sense of how, with such minute movements, the musicians released such beautiful sound. It was as if the music were coaxed out of non-existence, briefly blossoming and then receding. No wonder Lewis placed a song in the mouth of Aslan, and Tolkien's Silmarillion begins with pure music as the embodiment of the creator's glory. There is magic in sound.

The Lord God spoke, releasing concepts into space and time, creating all that is. The Maker of heaven and earth took thought and made it deed through sound, transforming the immaterial into material with such power that that which was said, became.

Where did the sound come from? How did it manage to support and contain and reveal such complex and terrifying purpose? When you and I speak our voice disappears into nothingness. When he speaks the universe is thrown into upheaval. Where did it go after passing me by? Surely, something so weighty and significant couldn't simply be... transitory, could it? My words, because I have no power, recede. His words are life.

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Yet each note fell into silence, revealing the next, and the next, together weaving narratives of hope, despair, of cruelty, of deliverance. And after each piece the final note remained only long enough to remind us listeners that what we had experienced would never be, again. It had been a moment, unique to all other moments. Not greater or less, simply un-reproducible.

The half sun-light, weakly breaking through the gloom outside. The expansive ceiling of the theater and the crimson curtains adorning the broad windows. The harsh stage lights, dramatically showcasing the austerely dressed musicians. The way my lunch had remained unsettled, distracting me from the first movement and then stabbing me in the back by seducing me into near sleep during the third. The presence of my father, making time for his son.

All these elements as platform for the performance of a piece that can be played again, but never reproduced the way it was received that day.

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All that to say, live music, or at least music chosen for you by someone else, is an opportunity to experience what they intend for you, rather than demanding to have your mood matched by the perfect soundtrack of your own design.

I think of my swelling music collection. Who am I to own sound? And at what cost have I purchased such luxury?

I no longer carry any responsibility to be the creator, I can own, I can hit repeat, I can build playlists. Nor am I subject to any will beside my own. I have the right to claim injustice if an establishment plays a song that doesn't fit my mood. How pathetic. I think I am a control freak.

I create perfect playlists, but am I really listening? Does it even matter who the artists are, what they say, or represent, as long as I feel like I'm put in the right mood? Does everything become subjective as long as I get my feeling fix? Have I made a cheap bargain: as long as the music doesn't make any demands of me I can consume it thoughtlessly?

I don't want to degrade the beauty of silence by casually (read: lazily) filling the air. And I want to restore the experience of being the grateful and thoughtful receiver, who would rather form a memory of a song heard once than scramble to figure out what the song was, missing the song entirely, but feeling triumphant as I hit purchase on iTunes.

I want to memorize and sing more songs, becoming an agent of beauty as opposed to it's critic. The world is overburdened by critics.

Enough rambling - the end.

Unexplained Hypocrisy

Pop Quiz:

Which Christian Holiday is more significant - Christmas or Easter?

If you're unsure, here are some definitions to help.

Christmas: a certain day set aside to celebrate mark the birth of Jesus Christ, God incarnate.

Easter: the day that celebrates and marks the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, his power over sin and death, the shedding of his blood for our transgressions against God that made communion with God viable, and the verification that everything he ever said was more reliable than gravity.

True, both days celebrate miraculous happenings. Both days are centered and focused on the Godman, Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ. And Christmas is necessary for Easter - he had to be here in order to die and resurrect here.  But whereas Christmas marks the beginning of the fulfillment of Old Testament Messianic prophecy, Easter (including the Holy Week) is the climax of the Christ's earthly ministry, particularly his work on the cross. Let's face it, had he not died on the cross and risen three days later his incarnation would've been phenomenally amazing but a bit anticlimactic.

So here's a little weirdness to be considered: Why, in a post-modern, post-Christian America is there so much hoopla by non-Christians (all-inclusive, i.e. Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Atheists, etc.) about Christmas, and not a whisper about Easter? 


It's possible I missed something in the news about Easter protesters, but as far as I'm aware nobody causes a stir about Easter. In fact, it's just the opposite. Straight from the first-hand experience of a reliable source (my fiance, who works in retail) there is revealing two-part report given here. 1) at Christmas in particular, folks are predominantly anti-Christian and they don't want to be wished a Merry Christmas. Sometimes they observe another holiday. Sometimes they're just haters who want to sterilize the calendar and culture. Regardless, even those who do observe Christmas (with biblical conviction) tend to be timid when it comes to wishing others a Merry Christmas. After all, who wants to risk being the recipient of our new cultural curse: The American Atheist's Evil Eye of Scorn and Disgust (it is given whenever a "Merry Christmas" is ill-received).  2) People left and right have been wishing my fiance a Happy Easter all day long. She has had the distinct privilege of filling in for a coworker today and for eight hours has encounter coffee addicts out for a Sunday stroll. And from their lips has come a bright and joyful, Happy Easter!

So. Do the American areligious simply avoid going out-of-doors on Easter Sunday? Or are they just ignorant of the fact that Easter is the biggest deal in the universe?! It would only make sense that if someone were anti-Christian or at least opposed to the observation of Christian holidays, the very last thing passing through their lips would be a greeting calling attention to the risen Christ. Please, could someone offer some sort of explanation for this hypocrisy?