When mankind first discovered the power of rhythm and melody, music played a vital part in bringing people together. It was used as a means to unify a tribe during times of celebration, sorrow and ritual when mere words themselves could not achieve the desired spiritual effect. For centuries, music wasn’t bought and sold as it is today; it was an elemental part of society’s fabric. Music was of, for and made by the people. Though ancient cultures held musicians in high esteem, the sounds they created were not made for glorification of self but were made to enhance the common good.

Somewhere along the way, music got divined between performer and audience. Slowly but surely sound creation was made by an ever-dwindling few and the practice of making music was no longer an everyday ritual of society. Further complicating matters was organized religion’s role in defining what sounds were acceptable and what sounds were forbidden. In doing so, the act of making music could be considered criminal if it was deemed blasphemous. Playing prohibited sounds could result in death. As music was divided along these lines, fewer and fewer people engaged in the act. No longer a shared communication between people, music became less and less a part of the average person’s everyday existence.

There are many thoroughly debatable reasons as to why modern culture is so fucked up, but, in my book of undeniable truths, the number one reason is that people don’t play music everyday. Music has become a perverted exercise in securing the adulation of strangers instead of the, “I am touching the face of God” experience it was intended to be. Playing music is as good as life gets. I’m not talking about playing music on a stage in front of an adoring audience; I’m talking about a group of people playing together. Put it this way. If you are down in the dumps, one sure-fire way to turn that frown upside down is to make some noise with a collection of your fellow human beings. It doesn’t even have to be musical. The worst god-awful racket is sometimes the most cathartic sound there is especially when you are a part of making it. To me, the enduring glory of punk rock is that it liberated music making from the prohibitive and thoroughly subjective notions of talent and technical ability. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t play “Stairway to Heaven”; the only thing that mattered was that you did. It in itself was a revolutionary statement. By taking an active role in music creation, you tap into the essence of what is making life worth living: participation.

And never forget that life is a participation sport.

Today’s music is devoid of cultural meaning. It is nothing more than a disposable commodity bought and sold for public consumption by people long divorced from the practice of making music themselves. While ego is a grand motivator, it seems that appeasing the ego is the only reason people make music anymore. Once a performer reaches the masses, any and every despicable vanity is accepted as if the act of writing a memorable melody or verse elevates them above the rest of us. This pomposity is what kills music. For far too long music has been cheapened by these champions of conceit.

People need to remember that playing music is better than listening to it.

great perspective. It almost brought tears to my eyes to be reminded of the fact that my voice conjoined with a gaggle of friends or even new associates
wheather singing or just talking is one of the purest joys I’ve experienced in my lifetime.