Day 234/366

This is a letter to the person who is not moved by music. And by 'moved' I’m not talking about crying or wanting to after hearing a (read: any) Cat Stevens song. I pity you. But do not pity yourself. Make the necessary changes in the direction your life is taking. You are not supposed to be living. Appreciate the art form for whatever genre (s) you like. Understand what you like, what makes you mellow, what suits that particular moment of revelation, what you would have liked to grow up listening to, what you want to hear on your deathbed as you fall into a deep sleep. 

Listen.

No one will teach you who The Beatles were or why Pearl Jam is worshiped. Unless you had awesome parents who grew up on this music too and were kind enough to rub it in your face that they lived through that era and in the process of mocking, educate you. I wasn’t that lucky but I sure did hear a lot of Neil Young, Carole King and John Denver when I was supposed to. If you were not born to hipster parents, don’t blame the universe. Make your own fate.

Make your own playlist. Explore music and see if your feet move to Judy in Disguise or Moonwalk without a conscious choice to do so. Or perhaps to some nasty drum ‘n’ bass. See if you want to let your hair loose and headbang to Megadeth or Korn or whatever those metalheads these days listen to. Soundgarden and Morrissey are not going to be taught to you. You have to hear about them from those who have already been there and know enough about the awesomeness of that journey to recommend it to you. Have a constant wanderlust for new musical lands you may chance upon some random day. Trip on what your mind wants you to, on what gives you that perfect high. It could be The Kinks or The Doors or Pink Floyd. Figure it out. Feel the urge to understand yourself through the music. Led Zep was never a dirty word. Groove to ‘Black Dog’. If you don’t like it, slap yourself unconscious and let it loop in your head till you know what you’ve been missing out.

Listen, you poor pathetic soul. Do yourself that favour and succumb to the mob mentality of enjoying the best bloody art form in this world. 

Express yourself and pick up that guitar if you feel it. Don’t shy away. Let it take over you. See what it brings out of you. When you feel it inside it, you will have to let it out. It will find it's way to enter the universe and leave the webs of your mind. Do it. Get it out. Take it all out of your system and give the world that sweet guitar riff to show your brilliance. Contribute to mankind. 

If you can’t but want to do this to yourself, visit an LP store and talk to the owner. (Psst. Carry some stash with you in case of emergency.) If you don’t even want to try, crawl back into oblivion, fill your ears with that Justin Bieber and live in shame.