by Jessu John
[box]Jessu John likes to listen to Western (English) music and her tastes aren’t restricted to one particular genre. In her piece for The Music Café, she talks about different kinds of English music that have appealed to her over the years. Music is inextricably linked to Jessu’s life, particularly her writing, as she reveals in this piece.[/box]I have always detested the question, ‘What’s your favourite kind of music?’ As far as art, music or literature is concerned, my view is that different facets of every genre appeal to us in various stages of our lives. The truth is that nothing out there has managed to have a stronghold or a lasting influence over me. There’s a mental dichotomy there that I am trying to work out: as a writer, I would like to influence people and yet, I refuse to be a fan of anything or anyone. I like learning from most things around me and I believe everyone teaches me something.
When I think about how music has shaped my writing or even me as an individual, I realise that while I like Indian classical music and would treasure the experience of a live performance, I tend to listen to more Western (English) music. A lot of my writing takes off from a line or set of words in a song I really like. When I’m writing a piece based on music that moves me at a given time, I am obsessive-compulsive. I’ll play the tune over and over again until I’ve finished my poem, for example. Most people will tell you they really like this or that kind of music. I don’t commit myself to any one form of Western music purely because I find a variety of styles helpful as a writer.
Over the course of the last three decades, I have enjoyed music churned out by the boy bands to the punk rockers to Sting and Springsteen and U2. I can’t deny I went through a brief phase of metal mania too. But today, I don’t listen to music that’s overly loud and ferocious anymore. My ears can’t take it. My neck needs to be in great shape for my running, so you will never find me head-banging even if only to impress. Besides, as a writer, these days, I prefer songs that have the power to make some words or expressions jump out at me while they play on. Because there’s every chance I might write a poem or ruminate meaningfully over a line. For me, that is time well spent.
Right up to my teens, I listened mostly to my father’s collection of 70’s music. I was enamoured by the baritones of Andy Williams, Jim Reeves and Engelbert Humperdinck. I still fancy Olivia Newton-John. You can gather how I might have been Miss Melancholic. I liked sitting in my room with the curtains closed and cooking up tragic love stories while sad songs played. Fortunately, I moved on to the Carpenters, Abba and BeeGees and spent some free hours pretending that my hairbrush was a microphone for a few years. Soon after, an Aerosmith-Richard Marx-Bonjovi-Bryan Adams phase took over with enough Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls and Dixie Chicks in the mix and well, I was all over the place. Not to mention, ‘Christian rock’ was a rage at one point and I let some of it swallow me alive for a while.
In my early twenties, I was hooked to the Corrs and Cranberries. Alanis Morissette catered to my largely hidden love for the edgy. However, I also began to appreciate some of the music from the 60’s and 70’s I had never been inclined towards before. The Beatles had to grow on me. There was a time when I honestly didn’t find their music appealing. My visit to Liverpool and the Beatles Museum changed that. I began to appreciate the simple complexities of Lennon, the Beatles and their lyrics. They are still not my favourite, but some of their words will ring in my brain for a long time. They won’t fail in sometimes inspiring me to concoct some of my own fancy lines as I travel through life as a writer.
In recent years, during my time in Europe, I enjoyed some amount of classical music. During such performances, I simply relish a concert and would not be able to take my eyes off the flautists and violinists. But if you and I met for a drink, I will not go on about the technicalities of classical music. I will tell you, though, what images ran through my mind while a piece was being performed. I’ll talk to you about emotions of mine that were stirred (and controlled), if my skin felt warm or cold, if my eyes filled up or closed to relax, if my heart wanted to burst or if I just felt plain sad. If you are a close friend, I will tell you about a young man I once liked, who took me to a concert years and years ago. I will tell you that I remember everything about that evening and that at this moment, I am thinking that it would make for a great piece of fiction.
My family was largely left-brained or no-brained when it came to the arts. So I left some artistic pursuits by the wayside and got busy with work and life. While I can’t say for sure if I will get back to singing or playing an instrument again, I like appreciating and analysing art. I enjoy trying to comprehend the reasons artists have for their chosen styles of music I appreciate some of the collaborative productions that have resulted from two strong artists coming together. Or even covers of some classics. Take Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock, for example, in the single ‘Picture’. Even the uncomplicated and soulful ‘If You See Him/If You See Her’ by Reba McIntyre, Ronnie Dunn and Kix Brooks performed by Lady Antebellum more than a decade later. Throw great performers together and they are compelled to stretch or challenge their own fortes and create something unique. (Even Pitbull thrives on collaboration). When I write or take a break from writing, some of these songs play in the background.
Music keeps me going on race day. So if it’s Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Carly Rae Jepsen and David Guetta who help me from warm up all the way to the finish line, then it means they are all useful. Their music also keeps me on my feet if a dance floor’s open. I forget all about my drink and get high on the disco beats. But I’ll always have the Goo Goo Dolls, Lifehouse, Nickelback to the Foo Fighters and Pearl Jam types for whatever mood swings of mine that align with their music and themes. Classic jazz, R&B and reggae have not done the trick for me just yet. But who knows? There just might be a phase of my life coming up that will be suited to those genres. Right now, though, I could listen to some alternate jazz. It would comfort me as I struggle to keep this piece within the word limit.
For someone who likes music, I have not been to many live concerts (just a few classical music ones). It was not the kind of thing my parents would spend money on when I was growing up. It does not help that my father is paranoid to this day that I might die in a stampede. Now in my 30-something years, I have a fear of being stuck in the embrace of sweaty crowds and fainting due to lack of air. At the end of my life, I will have no autographs to treasure and no memory of touching handsome rockstars. Other than that, it’s all good. I’ll definitely have some music playing in my head when I succumb to dementia. Forgetting you, forgetting him, forgetting them. Unable to remember who I am, was and could have been. But perhaps humming the tunes that have kept me going all the way from innocence to knowledge and understanding to oblivion.
Music has walked with me so far like a companion, familiar and strange. She is constant but will also show me her different sides. She soothes my (loveable) neurotic tendencies and satisfies the soul. She doesn’t make me anyone I don’t want to be, though. If you prefer music snobs, I am never going to be the hottest date you ever had.
Jessu John is a branding & communications professional from Bangalore, India. She also writes for mainstream Indian daily ‘The Hindu’ and is an amateur long distance runner. A lover of activities suited to the introvert, her inspiration for writing a piece often comes from conversations over coffee with friends or random people-watching and day-dreaming. She tweets as @JessuRJohn and blogs at ForceofDreams.
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