On Music (Part One, First Edition)
I think I make songs primarily because I feel disconnected from people and it's a way
of trying to get closer to people. Like, if I make music then I can get people's attention
and have an excuse to talk to them or show them something I made. Music is a
social activity for me, even when I'm completely alone recording a song to myself; I
always have other people in mind (though I don't alter my music to suit others; I
simply am conscious of the prospect of them hearing it). By showing them I can
make these songs, I hope that they can appreciate who I am. It's like an attempt to
give people a better impression of my self than I can give through socializing or
speaking. I feel like I'm so socially incompetent that I can express things better in
musical makings, whereas in person I'm just a stuttering idiot.
I love music; it affects me more pleasantly and deeply than any other creative
medium. My favourite part of music is lyrics and second is dancing, though I more
often listen to songs that focus on the latter when I'm not unhappy. Lyrics allow
music to incorporate another creative medium (writing) into the pretty sounds aspect
of it, so it's weird and convenient that you get to do both at once. For a song to be
truly meaningful to me it has to have an emotionally or philosophically profound
lyric. Thanksgiving lyrics are the best I've ever found and I don't think anyone will ever match those. I will always see my own music as a pathetic attempt to reach the obscene peaks of beauty and emotion that Thanksgiving reached at age 16-19. My (and everyone's) music will always seem sub-par.
Though I love to listen to music, I don't make music because I want to hear my own or because it's fun to make; I really enjoy making music with friends in extemporized "jam sessions," but I hate almost every aspect of making music by myself, and I don't enjoy listening to my own music as I do others'. What causes me to make the leap between appreciating music and making it, I think, is the social aspect described above; the potential of music to effect some sort of greater social cohesion or inclusion or understanding, to reveal myself to others better, to work for your love. And it is work; both writing lyrics and thinking up melodies, which I do separately, are not at all fun for me, and making good ones does not come remotely quickly; it is an incredible amount of work to arrive at a good song, let alone complete an album.
Music has to be listened to alone with headphones to be truly appreciated, at least for the first time (if you care at all about the given piece). The more prominent or ubiquitous the lyric is in a song, the more "foreground" that song is; that is, it deserves being listened to alone and shouldn't be relegated to casual listening in the background. Jazz is good background music because it often has no lyric and is a consistent, pleasant sound. It is especially offensive and frivolous to listen to foreground music in the background during social gatherings; like, playing a Thanksgiving song at a party, for instance, would be the biggest misuse of that music in the world, whereas Fela Kuti would be perfectly germane. My favourite music is foreground music; I like background music a lot, too, but I've never been profoundly affected by a piece of background music.
I got my first guitar at the start of grade 13. I got it because I had been thinking that it would be fun to make music with a guitar. My mother insisted I take lessons (and still does) but I didn't want lessons. I just wanted to have fun making noises. Although I'd never played a guitar before, for some reason I just had a strong belief that I could just pick it up for the first time and make some fun noises with it and it wouldn't be difficult at all, and I was right. It's easy; you just touch it and you can make stuff. The way to learn how to play an instrument, it turns out, is to want to play with it. In my experience, if you don't like to play with it, then you don't learn how to play it because if you insist on having to rigidly learn sheet music and individual notes and chords that someone tells you how to do it's the most boring and tedious thing in the world. You have to approach it with your right brain, not left; feel it out with no labels and names and instructions and specific rules you need to be following. Make it up. If your goal from the start is to play specific songs or sound a certain way or whatever then it probably won't happen.
When I first got my guitar I was also in love for the first time. Music and romance have been intertwined for most of my time making music. I felt the only way I'd ever have a chance of being loved was if I'd send out this "message in a bottle," if you will. I would never be able to approach a woman, but I could give her a cd or something, and maybe she'd get an impression of what I'm like in that cd and then like me and e-mail me with the included e-mail address on the back. That never worked, though, because no one, it turns out, ever uses the e-mail address included on zines or CDs or whatever.
Alexander R. Arvelo-McQuaig, of Lanterns
Live Band commonly consists of NIcholas Kerr and Robert Cole
and has included Kyle McQueston, Julia Carney, and Christopher Hubbarde
