Music, as we all know, is a truly wonderful experience, albeit an emotional one at times. Listening to music transcends space itself. I often find myself lost in a good song, without a sense of time or reality.
Although music can be blissfully experienced in solitude, it also brings people together; it can be the catalyst for community building. Whether that be through mutual fandom or from the beauty of seeing it live, music is something to be shared.
There’s a particular feeling — a nuanced, whimsical beauty — present when music is shared with others.
A song is played in a social setting, and the sharer says, “I think you will all like this song.” Spotify is on shuffle, and you find yourself thinking, “I think my friend would love this one.”
Many such cases exist. I constantly find myself on Spotify looking for something to play and, instead of seeing a bunch of solitary songs, I find a vast web of friendships, relationships and pieces of my past.
I’ll be out and about on campus — earbuds in, per usual — and a song will come up from my playlist. Suddenly, I am thrust back into a moment shared with a close friend. We listen to “Guts” by Leith Ross for the first time at a riverside, sharing earbuds while following along to the gut-wrenching (pun intended) lyrics.
My friend sings along to the words with careful precision and a soft timbre. I read along as the rushing sound of the river enters my earbud-free ear.
Poor posture is present while I struggle to complete a physics assignment. My phone goes off and, naturally, I check it. An old friend sent me Japanese Breakfast’s “Sounds from Another Planet.”
Flashes of the freshman and sophomore years of high school enter my mind’s eye. Memories of blasting “Rugged Country” by Japanese Breakfast at every single waking moment flood my forevision.
A smile spreads across my face as my friend and I blissfully exchange texts.
I’m brought back to the convenience store stop while in Japan with friends that slowly but intentionally turned into a night out on the town. We chat gossip, Karaage-kun is eaten and by the end of the night, we all feel a little warmer and ready for bed.
“Best to You” by Blood Orange and Empress Of dimly echoes off the apartment buildings as my friends and I sing and dance all the way back to our dorms.
It’s my first year of college, and I just found a solid group of friends. We decide to go for a drive and grab some food. Obviously, we decide on Taco Bell.
My friend — who always plays the best music — decides to queue up “Abstract (Psychopomp)” by Hozier. A wave of emotion comes over me — an experience with music that few other songs can recreate.
After listening, I pull my phone out and add “Abstract (Psychopomp)” to my fall playlist.
In every instance of sharing music, brilliant memories are made. I look back on each and every one warmly. And that is the ultimate beauty of music to me.
The sharing of music is so human to me. I love the beautiful connection that sparks from a simple song. Every song I’ve ever played is a gentle reminder of all the people who have been, who are and who will be.
Hirata can be reached at [email protected].
