Dear Reader,

there is a famous quote in the music business that goes like:

Writing About Music

is Like

Dancing About Architecture

Unattributed
(common belief attributes it to frank Zappa, but it is not true)

Probably it was meant as a way to put a stop to some armchair critics, or to state that music is some form of pure art, or… put your favourite interpretation here.

I agree that some forms of human expression or endeavour do not mix very well, and we could construct infinite comic examples. However, there are some ‘peculiar inexpressibles’, strictly related to our being humans, that we try to communicate in the most varied ways.

We try everything to express them: writing, music, dancing, architecture, painting, journaling, carving, filming, sculpting, up to designing video games.

Sometimes we succeed (producing something memorable that is passed from generation to generation), sometimes we fail (don’t worry, nothing terrible happens in this case).

The common denominator is that our attempts never end.

I bet that by now you guessed what I am referring to: sentiments.

They are so pristine in our minds, so pure and refined. At times we could place a clear definition on them, at least by similarity.
‘I feel exactly like that time when…’
‘I’m sad as I was sad that day after event X…’
‘I feel awake and present precisely as it happens when…’
‘My breath stopped, and my stomach shrank, as they did after hearing of 9/11…’
Try to think about it: I am confident that you could identify (although you couldn’t describe in words) a few ‘types’ or ‘qualities’, for lack of better words, of feelings that you perceive as typically yours.

How many of these feelings do you know and recognise?

When it’s the last time you truly experienced something new to you?

You know how I know it’s the end of the world? Everything’s already been done. Every kind of music’s been tried. Every kind of government’s been tried, every fucking hairstyle, bubble gum flavors, you know, breakfast cereal. What are we going to do? How are we going to make another thousand years? I’m telling you, man, it’s over. We used it all up.

Strange Days (1995) – Tom Sizemore as Max Peltier

For me, one of the bad things about growing up is the callousness that might develop. That sensation of ‘already seen’, ‘yeah, I know it already’, ‘I stopped bothering about it 10 years ago’ fills me with anguish. When I was younger, I cared about every detail, every nuance, everything was worthy of my most profound attention.

Everything was new and exciting.

Now no more. I’m not seeking consolation about it, I’ve come to realise that it is some survival mechanism: we just couldn’t be fully dedicated to EVERYTHING. It won’t be productive, it would also divert us from what’s truly important.

That said, I want to state that for some time, I have been happily experiencing a sense of loss.

The emotion originated for a couple of personal reasons that I won’t be discussing. Do not worry, no one has died or suffered anything permanent.

I say ‘happily’ because I felt a sensation, an emotion, that didn’t fit into any specific drawer in my heart. It was fresh and new for me. I’ve enjoyed the process of defining it, giving it a shape, finding a spot for it, without making the mistake of relishing in sadness and self-misery.

Now I would like to express it, and so I had to choose a tool among the many: writing a post was my idea.

To finally come back to the beginning, we could say that ‘blogging about new sensations’ may be ridiculous and futile as dancing about architecture or painting engineering with watercolours.

Yet, I had to try something. We humans always try to express and connect, we just have to. Personally, I just can’t avoid it.

Until next time, if life gives you lemons, you can try to play music about them.