What does today’s music say about you?

I have been searching, listening, re-listening, and disengaging in various musical genres since I can remember. Does that make me a master of music, um- no. Am I still going to stereotype different musical interests on a person- YES!

Let’s begin with country:

If you like this music, you are lost to me…forever. “Why”, you might be asking- “country music is the best in the world”? I don’t know, person who clearly is not a musical genius. Can you remember the last time country music has given you something new? Let me give it to you this way, if I wanted to hear about your great-grandma’s cheating ex cousin’s rockin’ chair, way way out in tha’ chattahoochie…I’d ask you about it. Currently, however, I do not care. Swift love and Urban living is not for me.

So how bout some classic rock:

This continues to be a confusing genre. One person’s classic rock is another person’s metal band. Let me explain… Are we saluting rock n’ roll, ridin’ hot on the surf music, or stuck ‘in-between years.’ Of course some people contemplate the ole british invasion, garage interpretation, pop-blues-folk, psychedelic persuasion. So who are we in this category, Soft, hard, early heavy? What class of music dedifferentiates from our origins, our golden age lyrics, the progressive strumming of chords- or even our ‘new’ wave punk? I guess my question is, how old does it have to be before it’s considered classic?

Lost on confusion, how bout some indie:

‘Indie’ music, for purpose of clarification, is considered music produced independently from a major commercial record label. So WHAM- you own a drum, got a tape player…get on wit’cho bad self. You an’ indie music star! That being said, thank God for youtube and spotify (among others). We wouldn’t know who you are otherwise! A million wanna-be-bands later… I’ve discovered that all music meshes into one sound. So you better be ahead of the game.

There are a trillion other musical interests out their… EDM, Classical, Popular, Reggae, Latin, Religious, Orchestral, etc… So what are you’re thoughts? Got any stereotypes yet ;)

Symphony Man

I believe in two things: Life & Death. What I have discovered about the two? They are both unbelievably far and incredibly close.

Symphony Man

The strings of the piano grow louder, strum, strumming the tune of the masked man. A candle 

flickers in the distance, tombstones rising from the upturned earth. Wriggling worms draw nearer. Voices of the damned rising above a silent reverie. This is the silence of the children, the flailing limbs of resting corpses. Rot. Oozing pestilence of unkempt flesh. Your deathbed, your soil ridden divan. Tip of the hat, your demise will not be commiserated. 

Condolences. Grievances. They usher you forward with offers of remembrance and fulfilling 

gratification. But these words are not for you, not your own to consider or accept. Poor student of reality. Have you entered a world in which you cannot escape? The coffin awakens near your side. Eyes like dusty marbles. Something you had expected? Considered? No, no she had swayed to and fro with the rest. A flower in the breeze, her twirling color of life slowly subsiding around her. You too have begun to fade. 

Fingers sleepily caress the piano keys as the crowd awaits your answer. The finale! Begin slowly, 

arise, crescendo. Sharp, sharp notes, high and low. A wave of trumpets filling your ears. Pounce on the 

ivory squares. Demand the attention. Push them higher, the twirling flowers dancing across the stage. The coffin closes, worms drawing back into dark holes. Children’s laughter erupts around you. B flat, E minor. Strum, strumming the keys! There will be no earthbound settee for you on this day, no pity. 

The notes linger in the air, rebounding between the seated ruby cushions. A woman holds her 

breath; the note cannot escape. She reaches, her arms open wide, a plumage of hair resting atop her 

powdered forehead. You watch the tension rise beneath her chest as the last upsurge builds beneath your fingertips. Her lips draw a breath, and then a magical bravado. The trill, the flowing F. Three octaves above middle C and your fingers grow persistent. Swaying harmony between pianist and libretto. Joy in this moment! 

Resting corpses be damned, this is not a day of demise. Never a day of failure. Tip of the hat, you 

have mastered the keys. Choral symphony of brilliance, Ode to joyous jealousy. Vienna’s jubilant 

applauding audience wishing you well. Ovation, yield to concentration. Your ended fortissimo, avoidant of musical limbo. Success, the crowd awaits your reception.

By Yours Truly: Michelle Salyga