Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The beginning of a song is - in my opinion - the most enchanting part of music, like the beginning of a romance. With many of my favorite artists, from Train to Coldplay, Paramore to Alanis Morissette, the first few notes and the first uttered lyrics are what captures me. They pull me in, slowly and deeply, until I'm completely immersed. The notes weave in and out of one another, subtly including me in their design. All thanks to a deliciously cooked beginning.
But lately, I've begun to notice the end of songs more, or the lack thereof.
Well, how do you end a song, really? It may suddenly stop, the sharp silence more surprising than any noise. Or, the song may fade into the distance, repeating over and over for an implied eternity. Maybe the singer even whispers one last sentence in conclusion.
Honestly, I can't imagine ending a song in a way that seems right. I don't feel like a song should have an end. It could continue, changing and growing, leaving a trail to follow. I'm entranced, held by the notes, until they end. The music disappears, and I hold my breath, waiting for the next song, new music. It's like finishing a good book that I know has no sequel.
Maybe the ending bites me so because I know, somewhere that I don't often visit, that those stories the music tells, the feelings it reveals, never truly end.