The music could be heard blaring from the basement as he walked into the house. A steady thump, thump, thump of bass quickly seized his brain.
“Turn it down!” he yelled down the stairs to her from the landing. “What?” she replied? She knew what he wanted. He wanted her to turn it down. She knew he was pissed off again that she was down in the basement zoned out on her music. He told her he was worried about her ears, that she would go deaf. What could be wrong with going deaf, she thought. Most things people say to her really should go unheard. I mean seriously why does he have to be such a jerk about how loud she liked to listen to her music.? The louder the better in her opinion.
She wanted to become the music, to flow with it. It didn’t matter what kind of music it was either, punk or rock or jazz; it had to be loud though, or it wasn’t music to her. Loud as life, that’s how she loved it – LOUD!
As loud as it would go without breaking the glass or blowing the speakers. Lost in the loud she was driven to move, to sweat in the moves, to breathe in the music and exhale the loud. She stepped into a real dream, a place where nothing existed except the beat- the thump, thump thump, the clash, the rip of strings, the plunk of cords. The tap tap tapping of toes making its way up to the legs and before she knows it she is possessed by the loud; it consumes her every thought and transports her to the beginning, to the bang bang bang of music. Its flow and rhythm moves her to and fro – wind chimes come to mind as they sway in the sweet summer breeze so she too swings to the breeze of the music, the sweet music.
So she, she has become the music, the swagger, the swing; she is making her way across the room, across an ocean of notes: tap, slide, rock back and forth, to and fro, up and down, below, below the charismatic smile that forms on her face. She feels it. She feels the music, feels it has transformed her, beguiled her and rearranged her. She is gone. Left the building in her mind and yet her body is there in the room in the dank, dark basement among her things but she is really gone. She has gone to a place that exists only in her mind when she listens to her music.
Oh jubilation, oh infatuation, oh that feeling of being one with God. Music can do that to her. The music makes her feel as though she is one with God, with the universe. The elation she feels, the absolute joy is in the music. It is God.
The blues are playing now and the tears blur her vision. He yells down again to turn down the music and she stops dancing now and only feels the pain in the soulful song that is playing loud. She feels the pain, in every joint, in every bone, in all parts of her body. The blues sings to her and to her pain and she is rocked quietly to sleep, to numb the pain until tomorrow again she can feel the loud, loud blast of music until it rocks the pain right out of her until the sun comes up. Without the music there would be no rhyme or reason, no fait accompli to life; without music all she would feel is the pain, not the blues, not the rock – there would be just a nothing sort of feeling of loss.
“turn the music up” by Melanie Tata. Creative commons flickr. Some rights reserved