Just as many times people rarely can describe why they're drawn to a form of music other than speaking in generalities, "it's restful", "it's a pick-me-up", "it says something to me", the opposite is equally true. People many times develop aversions to a particular song or a form of
music without being able to describe why they want to avoid it other than saying "I don't like it".
How we hear music and respond to it ultimately depends on who we are as individuals and our experiences in life. Sometimes these echoes of us are spelled out lyrically. For instance, a person hearing a song about having a broken heart, the level to which they might respond to that
song, has to do with their own attitudes and experiences of
disappointment or betrayal in love. In a similar manner, it's easy to
imagine a song becoming "our song" to a couple when they're beginning
to come together in a relationship, becoming emblematic of their emotions.
Should the relationship end, their individual attitudes toward hearing
that particular piece of music again will change and evoke different
feelings in each. What's not so easy to understand, because persons
simply can't understand it themselves, is a situation like this: a
woman who never really minded let's say "acid rock" develops an
aversion to that music and just can't bear to hear it, after her son is killed
in Viet Nam. In that case, there might be an unspoken association with
that music as being representative of all the anti-Viet Nam protests.
Somehow that form of music is now at odds with her on a personal level.
How odd and almost incoherent to say that because of a personal
experience many years ago I dislike "new age" guitar music, although
the genre "new age" had not yet been invented that form of spacey acoustic
noodling had. I know this about myself and I can accept it. I also
have to grudgingly admit that now decades later I still detest the
music and what it represents to me. What is surprising is that I can find so
many other reasons to dislike this form of music. I wonder sometimes
why I am so inclined to believe those reasons, especially when voiced
by other people. But they help steel my argument and make me right about
why I dislike "new age" guitar music, they make me right in my feelings.
When I think back to that single time when just hearing this type of
music was so inappropriate to me, I come up with only perjoratives.
Self-contained, selfish, self-absorbed, precious, bourgeois,
privileged, leisured, pretentious, lazy, hedonistic, smug, presumptuous, and
entitled. Lacquered, sensitive, pampered, plumped, pudgy, fluffed up,
airless, classist, pompous, pedantic and manicured. Immature,
insincere, manipulated, contrived, hermetic, cowardly, rich, useless,
unfeeling, mannered, and technical. Polished, pseudo-intellectual,
layered, shallow, fallacious, self-righteous, superior, correct,
comfortable, placid, lustrous, stuffy, and safe. Over-organized,
collecting, glossy, chilly, arch, demanding, tidy, artificial,
indifferent, that list could go on.
How could a music that is designed to be a non-threatening and harmless
wash of sound evoke such a violent response in me? Aside from the fact
as a form I think it's just childish poo-poo? It's that unintelligible
and incoherent emotional attachment we as human beings make to music.
Years ago, I had been dealing with the violent death of a loved one in
the family home, a violent death in a small town that had never seen a
killing, replete with official investigations, extreme emotionalism and
family hysteria. After probably too long of this for my own good, I
had
bailed for relief and took a walk ending up across town at a
neighbor's. That young man who I regarded as a friend was playing that
music to make himself feel better. As he played, he would chat and
giggle with another visitor. That music did not understand me.
The music was ineffectual at doing what it was designed to do, at least
for me. And so, it was false. It was unsympathetic and
emotionally-dampened. It was also as indifferent as it was forced and
stilted, almost insulting the way an attempt at condolence can sound
mildly-intentioned or like a rehearsed murmur. How completely at odds
with my reality of that point in time and my memories now of it. Of
course, the other person could turn this around and say the same thing:
How selfish of you to be wrapped up in your own concerns when I am just
enjoying my music.
Unfair it is that I carry my emotional baggage with me and unreasonable
of me, too. So here's poor Tino Izzo and his Nostalgia Trails.