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epistle log 40rty 6ix
sublimation
when music becomes more than incidental to the listener, when it transcends the barrier between life and art, and blurs the boundaries of self/other, real/imaginary/fabricated: this is auditory sublimation. the music sinks into the landscape like plasma filling the empty spaces, not covering but augmenting, elevating, enriching: realizing. summers, coming home bitter and tired and worn, music wraps me up and away as i dissipate, trying to escape the everyday tortuous monotony and inertia. certain albums have been serendipitously assembled for this drive: aggressive opening cuts of sympathy for frustrated energy, bridged by disassociative album cuts, and culminating with a song to breathe with, eyes closed and engine growling a decrescendo, windows down, soul bared, praying for the least calm and peace, enough to stumble off to some semblance of slumber. the air traffic sounds of "exit music (for a film)" come in just as i pass the airport, freight and commercial jets punctuating my surrender to the certainty, or at least to the comfort, of music.
i've gone on at length of live music and its profound effect on my entirety. Not huge arena or festival concerts as much as the smoky bar or back room: an intimacy, some immediacy: an urgency. people laugh and smile and mock as i give myself in complete surrender to the music: eyes closed, uncontrolled body swaying and jerking: bewitched and abandoned. these people should have seen me when i played, my face an open window to the deepest recesses of my soul, or the blank stare of charmed and enraptured boy.
the other side of music isn't enough anymore, i fear. behind the console or as one of thousands: the connection is diluted if not lost entirely. i still live the music, stomping and singing or swaying and playing the console: i still become one with the experience; but this is more like a leaf bent by the rain and winds, not a wave on the open sea. is it that the more i study, the less authentic experiences become? or am i losing my connection to extension: have i become inauthentic?
in this town, here and now, i may never know
08|26|01