Music Therapy

Back in the day I had cable. You know, before the cost of having 999 channels (and nothing to watch) skyrocketed. Often times the cable box would be tuned to VH1 and I’d become one with my couch while marathons of Behind the Music aired and the twins crawled over each other while tickling their Elmos.

Battery operated evil.

One particular day I was watching Behind the Music: Poison, in which I took a particular interest since for a time in the late 80’s I loved Poison. At some point during the show there was a then current interview of lead singer Bret Michaels lamenting the rise of grunge, and, thus, the decline of glam rock. He said, and I’m paraphrasing because I don’t recall his exact words, “I don’t understand rock music today. Bands today sing about sad shit. In our day way sang happy songs.”

I don’t know that I’d describe 80’s rock as happy, but most of it certainly was not sad. When I think of Poison’s discography, mostly I associate their music with their lifestyle; which was the stereotypical sex, drugs, and rock and roll scene. And, of course, an occasional ballad.

This may be shocking to Michaels, but most of us can’t relate to that type of life. We don’t have the time or money to rock and roll all night or party every day. We don’t have desperate groupies throwing their bodies at us and while providing carte blanche to do whatever we wish to them. We have children. We have jobs. We have bills to pay.

On the surface, Michaels’ opinion seems valid. Logically speaking, it seems absurd that one would rather listen to a song sung from the depths of despair rather than one sung from a positive place.

I, obviously, can only speak for myself, but the “sad” music I listen to, and love, is very relatable to me. When I listen to music in which the artist can capture exactly how I feel I become lost in those lyrics, and the emotion with which they are sung. I can blend right in to music which explores darkness because the darkness is where I often roam. Too many times I’ve felt sad for no discernible reason. Too many times tears have dripped from my eyes with no readily apparent cause. Too many times I’ve felt the frigid absence of hope. So yes, Bret, when someone can expertly capture those feelings and express them in musical form I become ensnared by such a work of art. It gladdens me that you do not understand because that means you’ve never been there.

This weekend past I met someone with a degree in music therapy. I had never heard the term before, so I asked her to elaborate. Music therapy, put simply, is using music to express your feelings when you do not have the ability to articulate them. I cannot count how many times in my life where I’ve been in some desolate place and suddenly I hear a song which perfectly captures exactly how I’m feeling and I just emotionally explode. It’s like, “Yes! These guys get it!” And then I play the song on repeat more times than is probably healthy and feel all the feels that song might evoke. It’s an amazing feeling I really don’t have the words to describe. I might equate it to how the sun may feel as it rises in the morning. Or perhaps how a flower feels when it blooms.

I’ve been giving myself music therapy for years and had nary a clue. On occasion I’ve even turned certain songs, and their associated feelings, into blog posts. Music, as Bob Segar once so eloquently said, soothes the soul.

My latest music therapy session has been provided by Breaking Benjamin.

Tired of feeling lost, tired of letting go.
Tear the whole world down, tear the whole world down.
Tired of wasted breath, tired of nothing left.
Tear the whole world down, tear the whole world down.
Failure.

Many of you will read these lyrics and wonder how on earth they could possibly mean anything to me. Still, many others will read these lyrics and understand perfectly well what they’re meant to convey. Bret Michaels is obviously one of the former.

So, I evidently listen to sad music. And I’m perfectly okay with that. It works for me. I’m abnormal. I prefer winter over summer. I prefer cloudy skies over a sunny day. I prefer night to day. Given a choice between black and white, I’d choose black. And, given a choice between a sad song or a happy song, give me the sad song. It’s therapeutic to me. It’s how I roll. It’s my therapy.

Does music make you feel all the feels? Does it sooth your soul? Is it therapeutic to you? This is your confessional. Tell me everything.