Music is present at the beginning and the end of everything--the birth exaltation and the death lamentation--as well as it is present in between; that is, music is everywhere, being absorbed at all times, either casually through the subconscious brain, or intensively through the conscious brain. It is both produced and heard, simultaneously, by the subtle force within man that is irrevocable, spiritual.
For some, music is considered the divine art. In reality, music differs from painting, or drawing, or writing, or whatever, only inasmuch as it does not require the absolute attention of, or participation from its audience for it to effectively move them--though it doesn't hurt to have them willingly listen. However, I do not believe this makes it the divine art--divine, of course, implying a heavenly origin, or perfection--in the same way that I do not believe any art is or can be divine, being that all art is created by creatures of this earth, and therefore belongs to this earth, making it inherently, obviously, worldly and imperfect.
I say this not to degrade art, or the artist, but to elevate them both. Art is essential to existence because it strives to be transcendent, and even believes itself to be at times; it is the making of life from life, within it, or of it; it is creation spawned from creation that, if only for a moment, provides its audience with the sense that their life, and life itself--the basis for art, and the artist's perception--might actually mean something; it is a continual process of giving abstract life and taking it, of forming and destroying, which ultimately allows for the human experience to expand infinitely, theoretically, if only to give the individual a better understanding of the present, physical life they are leading.
And music is simply the most accessible, most universal art form.
As Henry Miller said, "To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a p air of lungs, and a little knowledge of music. It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is to want to sing. This then is a song. I am singing."
Although it is seemingly that easy to generate a song, there is no mention of the quality of the song, or of the quality of the voice which is singing it. By the standards of ordinary judgment, it is fair to say that I cannot sing. I am capable of opening my mouth. I have a pair of lungs. I can pretend to know a little of music. But it would be a terrible misrepresentation of my talents to say that I am singing.
When I was younger, all I wanted to be was an actor. When I was taking (very unnecessary) classes to teach me how to act, all I wanted to do was write. Now, as a writer, all I want to do is travel around the world with a tiny wooden piano meant for children and sing my ever-shrinking lungs out. Instead, I am sitting at a tiny wooden desk in a relatively empty apartment in the Northwest of the country I was born in, writing this.
In that respect, I would prefer that this be taken in as similar a casual manner as one would take in music--either with your pants down at your ankles in the bathroom, or on a long drive when all other options have run out. This, then, really is a song, or songs, or at least very much like one; it is the foundation of a song, the music and the lyrics of a song to which anyone can and should sing along. I do not yet have a tiny wooden piano meant for children, but I am certainly still learning how to play.
--Benjamin Font
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