As many of you know (or don’t know), music is a pretty big part of my life. I was raised around a body of music, not necessarily because I was forced to but because I wanted to.
I was a… I was amazing, if you could put it that way. I have gifts in the area of music that others do not. By an early age, I knew this, so naturally, I became arrogant.
I developed my own strict views on music, such as what was good and what was bad. Then I classified music by those guidelines. Not much went into the “good” category.
Recently, I had done some thinking. I went back to the core. What was music? Definition #6 by dictionary.com: “any sweet, pleasing, or harmonious sounds or sound.”
By this definition, any noise is music. Everything is music to one person or another. A sweet violin melody. The rage of two pianists. The blood-chilling scream of a murder victim.
It could be the din in a mall, or the crashing of plates against the ceramic floor. Birds chirping. Keyboards clacking. Feet shuffling. Fingers cracking. Horses galloping.
Everything is music in some form.
And if it’s not, well…
It could be turned into it.