Music has no prejudice. I trust music; it has never, and will never, let me down. Music speaks to me, and I listen. To me, it says many different things. Sometimes music is funny, sometimes sad, and occasionally I find it to be confusing. But what I love most about music is that it is universal: it is the same to me as it is to the sixteen-year-old in Japan, or the seventy-five-year-old in Denmark. Music is a universal language.
By universal, I do not mean that it says the same thing to everyone, for it does not. In fact, it does quite the opposite. No, by universal, I mean that no matter what country you live in, what music you listen to, music speaks to you. Music has its own language—your language.
It is a very tricky thing, the language of music. Sure, it speaks to us, but what exactly is it saying? There really is no way to decipher it; it says something different to everyone. While some people may find that annoying, I find the fact that everyone hears something different comforting. That is where music gets its beauty. It is a personal experience.
There are many different kinds of music, each speaking to you in a different way. For example, to you, “In da Club” may say, “Change the Station!” while Mozart’s 6th may say “Relax.” Perhaps Red Jumpsuit Apparatus does it for you; maybe The Beatles. Maybe Led Zeppelin speaks to you in a way that is all its own. In any way, there is a genre, maybe many genres, that speaks to you.
Because I believe music speaks, I try to experience all different kinds. A common misconception is that one particular group of people listens to one particular type of music. However, sometimes you will find that people can surprise you. For example: in eighth grade, I became a fan, however transient, of Linkin Park. One day, in the middle of one of my rocking out sessions, my mother came in to my room and asked whom the group was I was listening to. When I told her, she looked at me eagerly and asked, “Would you be able to get me this CD?” I was floored. My mother was a Linkin Park fan! Looking back, I am proud of my mom. She didn’t block out the music. Somehow, this thirty-something-year-old mother connected to a band that was a stereotypical teenage band.
Rock, pop, hip-hop, classical, classic rock, indie-pop, rap. The number of genres is astounding. Each has its own message, its own point to get across. It can be funny, stupid, heartfelt, or sad; but no matter what, no genre or song is pointless. Music has its own language; what is it saying to you?
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