Fifty hours ago
When I opened my keyboard kit, Kanavey Kanavey - one of the most melancholic songs of the last decade - should have ideally been the last thing that came to my mind. It was a Friday, and classes for the day had ended. When I unpacked the bag, set up the arrangement, and plugged the adapter, I had a set of songs in mind that I wanted to practice. And, Kanavey Kanavey was NOT on that list, primarily because it was intense and I had decided to keep the session light. However, the only song I ended up trying out and recording was the one I did not think about in the first place, and something that was at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, relative to my state of mind at that time.
Thousand hours ago
I was frustrated because of the now-normalized pressure of the first few weeks of B-school life. Naturally, while climbing the stairs to reach the room where the musical weaponry were kept, I had firmly zeroed in on quite a few tracks that would not require me to strain my throat and scale highs, and were soothing and calming in nature. Quite (un)expectedly, the song I ended up recording during that instance was Nallai Allai, a song that has considerable high octave notes - something I was totally not ready to attempt. Nevertheless, Nallai Allai - the umpteenth recording of it - was the only fruitful recording at the end of that session.
*****
Oftentimes, I end up trying to fathom to what extent music can influence me. If I wanted a generally peaceful vibe, something that definitely does not warrant a melancholic track potent enough to create internal turbulence, Kanavey Kanavey was not the option. Which made/makes me wonder, "What exactly does music do to me? Does it make me more humane? OR, is it another influence that shatters my own emotional understanding of myself?"
Then, there is the other aspect that I keep pondering about. If I am not really in sync with the intended emotion of a song, am I doing justice to it? If I approach a piece of music as a way of recuperating myself out of a passing state of mental exhaustion or fatigue, I am still in the state of depression the moment I start singing a happy song. Though the transition to a state of calmness happens somewhere during the course of the song, the initial mismatch at the starting phases does exist. Is there consonance or dissonance?
Notwithstanding these two streams of thoughts, there is a third one that finds its way into my neural schema quite easily. And, it deals with questions, counter-questions and quasi-counter-questions on whether these musings on music are necessary in the first place.
Should music not ideally be just like any other form of expression that comes out spontaneously?
Oh, but music is an art form, which means it is an outcome of intense contemplation and internalization, and intimate connection?
Do all these really matter? As long as music flows like an unchecked dam, would that not wash away all that that are undesirable within and outside?
However, for music to flow like an unchecked dam, shouldn't there be an indescribable emotional blockade that waits to manifest itself?
For the manifestation to occur in its natural form, there needs to be no control mechanism in place. But, music as a construct has certain structure - and structures invariably bring about constraints - which surely means there is some control mechanism, right?
*****
Every day passes on like a scene from a battlefield, where the competing forces are the rational and emotional sides arguing about music as an entity, while music - the authority vested with the power to give out any decision ranging from a verdict in favour of one party or a complete ceasefire - exudes that all-encompassing smile.
