I guess in essence this is another edition of ‘internal monologue of the solo traveller’, but I felt I had to write it.

Let’s be totally honest, it’s music that tides us over in our hours of despair. Its voice that has, unbeknownst to us, listened to the confused discord in our hearts and conjured the words we didn’t know we needed to hear.

It has the unequivocal ability to define a moment in our lives, to collect our emotions and play them back to us every time we hear that song: transporting us right back into that moment. It has the ability to make time malleable as if time has stood still since that moment that song captured the undefinable whisperings of our soul.

There are songs that for me, still after all this time, after 15 years that still are an emotional quagmire. The physical pain I felt at the time that song first made an indelible mark on my life, travels through every sleeping atom of my being. Every cell that had worked in a concerted effort with my consciousness to move forward and heal is decimated with the first note of the opening bar.

Then we have those songs that lift us and transcend the lives we live. Songs that let the world fall by the wayside and let the happiest elements of our souls sing out in rapture. Music makes us frequently aware of the emotional polarities that exist within us. It is something that speaks to our soul’s consciousness and elicits the purest of human responses.

Music allows us as humans a release. Where we go to corner pub gigs and epic showstoppers in stadia around the world because there is something that needs to be released within us, through song. Let’s face it, we don’t even need the concert; we cast off the shackles in the car, in the house when no one’s around, the shower. Songs help us rejoice and help us purge the feelings that take us to our brink. Without realising it, over time we’ve gathered together quite the collection of songs, that define our moments, our loves, our losses: our own inner songbook.

Could you imagine our lives without music?
No, I didn’t think so.