I have a habit of listening to songs on repeat. When the song’s just right and it’s blowing me away, I’ll let it loop and loop and loop. Sometimes the songs are these beautiful, spacious things (like Sun Kil Moon’s Carissa) and other times it’s pop stuff that plays the soundtrack to my day. It’s wonderful.

I think listening to music like this is important for two reasons. Let’s discuss.

The Mirror

Think of the cliché of an opera singer singing just the right note to make a wine glass shatter. It’s a real thing. This happens because the sound hits this one particular note that makes the glass start shaking a little, then a little more, and more, and more, until it shatters.

For this to happen, the sound and the glass have to have a really special relationship. If you try a different note, nothing happens. Just a loud noise and a somewhat confused glass. If you change the shape of the glass, same deal: nothing. It has to be that noise and that glass for the magic to happen.

This particular magic is called “resonance.” It’s a neat science thing. I think it’s also a perfect analogy for what happens when we listen to music we love. Think of your favourite song. The one that floors you every time… that pulls you in… that you play over and over and over again. Now if you pull it up on YouTube, you’ll see that there are a whole bunch of dislikes. But if the song’s so good, why doesn’t everyone feel that way?!

Just like the sound and the glass, some sounds resonate with you in particular. Your personality. Your past experiences. Your passions and weaknesses. No one else shares those exact things with you, and so some songs won’t resonate with other people like they resonate with you. Your musical tastes are completely unique, because your life is completely unique. Simple as that.

But there’s something else interesting here. That one note that shatters the glass tells us something about the glass. It tells us a little about how its made, about its imperfections, about its shape. Listening to music that resonates with us has the same effect. It holds up a mirror and shows us something of our own shape. How we’re made. Who we are.

The Moss

I have this fear that I’ll never find a favourite album again. That finding new music is something you do when you’re younger (I’m 36, for reference), and that as you get older the days of intense inspiration and musical passion become somewhat muted. Not the same. The focus changes. “Fitter, happier, more productive.” As it goes.

Thankfully, this hasn’t been the case (though I will say it happens less often). I’ll come upon some new album or artist*, get the album, explore it, and then once in a while land on a song that becomes one of those special ones. A song that resonates with me, that tells me a little about who I am these days, how I’ve changed.

But listening to these favourite songs does something else. It keeps me listening to music. Maybe that’s the wrong word. I mean, there’s listening to music and there’s listening to music. It’s the second one I’m talking about. The one that involves some vulnerability, some opening up, maybe the odd moment of elation (or a tear) as you walk to the bus stop with your headphones on. That one.

I think we start forgetting how to listen if we go too long without it. We forget how to be that vulnerable and let ourselves feel that deeply. The moss grows. We think we’re too busy. (We’re not.) But diving back into music, exploring new stuff, discovering some new favourites—that clears away all that moss and stirs us up once again.

Coda

All this to say: listen to music. Not in the background, but in the foreground. Pull up an old favourite or find a new one, and let yourself really listen. If it’s been a while since music hit you, don’t think it won’t again. Today’s the perfect day to dust off that glass and go find some music to shake you up.

*Looking to discover some new music? I’d recommend the podcast All Songs Considered. No affiliation, just a fan. 🙂