Whenever my mom makes biryani, she always uses raw papaya to make the chicken go all soft and limp so that it cooks properly. (On a side note, it works like a charm, never buy the stuff they sell at the shops again.)
Yes, I am saying that music is like this. Except, you know, for your mind.
I always notice that whenever I’m overstressed or nervous, even the most ephemeral non-cacophonic sound can make me relax a bit. I always visualise my then state as music tenderizing my mind.
I tend to become a little unemotional and robotic when I’m stressed, (do I have company here, or am I really as freaky as I suspected I was?) so music makes me breathe a little bit more.
I love, love, love Yanni (I don’t care if that’s uncool or wierd, I just can’t compromise or feel ashamed about the music I love, even if people think I’m certifiably insane.) and I love, love, love Richard Clayderman. I can listen to hours and hours of Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Bach, Chopin and Mozart. That said, I also like pop, rock and rap. (Only some, though.) So, basically, this makes me really listen to music too much.
How can anybody listen to music too much, you ask. You can if you’re me. Once I go into put-my-entire-collection-into-shuffle mode, I simply stop getting work done. It’s like my mind becomes too soft and impressionable and mellow and I get caught up in each of the brilliant emotions that the composer and the songwriter wanted to create in you. And I tell you, when your ipod plays I Kissed A Girl immediately after a Hans Zimmer piece, your emotional change in a few seconds is drastic. Which may not be good for you. Back away from the ipod, lady, and go and get some productive work done, instead of crying along with Rufus Wainwright.
So, this brings me back to my original analogy. Sure, music softens your mind, but too much of it will cook you through before you get the chance to imbibe any flavours.