Melancholy Music is Beautiful and Dangerous

Music gives me chills. I love music. It is one of my biggest sadnesses that I am tone deaf and have a horrible singing voice and no other musical talent to speak of. Luckily, I can still listen and appreciate and savor.

Loud and fast and catchy punk is usually my first choice. It energizes me, it makes me happy, it restores my faith in humanity. Trust me, I can wax poetic about the virtues of good, anarchistic, pop punk for days on end. And no, anarchistic and pop punk can indeed go together. The Queers, anyone?

However, every once in awhile I get sucked into a cycle of listening to slower, sadder, beautiful music. I am extremely picky about the slow music I listen to - it has to be a combination of factors mixed just right. I don't even understand all the components of what I like, I just know when I like it. Oddly, some element of folk music is usually in there somewhere. Maybe that part reminds me of people I've been told over and over again were more idealistic and committed to change than kids today.

For instance, the Mamas and the Papas really do it for me. As one of my first-ever CDs I listened to this one over and over again. I'm not really sure why my mom thought I would like it, but I'm glad she did. This is still one of my favorite songs ever. I still have no idea what it's about, but it gives me a sweet and sad feeling that is so amazing. The feeling when you hear something beautiful that you know you could never reproduce but you want to experience again and again.

I think that feeling really epitomizes melancholy for me. It's a feeling that there is beauty but only because there is sadness and we all have to return to that sadness. You can see why I end up in a sad contemplative cycle when I get on one of these music kicks. It is usually provoked by gorgeous retro-sounding music, like my recent discoveries of Coconut Records, and She & Him. Yes, both celebrity fronted, and both highly resisted by me at first, especially the hipster-tastic She & Him. It was just too much to resist, though. I dare you to try.