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Bob Marley said that the beauty of music is that when it “hit you” you do not feel pain. Now I would definitely be a fool to take this as literal as it sounds. I’m sure the late great Marley was not being literal as he said this.
Nevertheless, for me music sometimes is pain. If you grew up Mexican, there is little doubt that you know what I mean. Although you might not have been paying attention, in the background there was always a “corrido”.
Corrido’s originally were vocals and guitars in a waltz form. Today across Latin music, it has jumped into several styles. The prose remained the same, a sad ballad describing a tale, either tragic and/or romantic.
My grandfather often played them when I was younger. To young to care what the song was about, I only recognized the atmosphere becoming melancholy, the wrench of tequila, and the tears that followed.
While other cultures certainly have their own iconic style of sad reflection music, for some reason between Mexicans “corridos” are extra poignant.
Having grown up in a culture where music could strike a deep emotional chord within has followed me to present day. Pair that with my overactive imagination it can often lead to trouble.
I’m not saying anything ground breaking as I’m sure plenty of others can connect music to several kinds of emotions. I’m simply saying sometimes I purposely torture myself listening to certain artists and songs.
I love The Strokes and they are my favorite band but there is no denying they make me feel low and shitty frequently. Sometimes I can bring myself back up from it, often by listening to another of their songs.
My overall point is that my hypersensitivity emotionally is aided and fucked because of great music. Which compared to other mediums of suffering, it is preferable.
Vivid scenes scrolls through my head as I sing along. While I could skip ahead I’d rather freak out then so that when I see you I smile.
So yes perhaps the great Rasta king has made an incredibly astute observation of life.