Music as comfort

I think this will be a short one. There was something that struck me, and I have felt like I needed to write something about it, but I wasn't sure what.

It happened at one of the concerts I have been to this year, which doesn't narrow it down very much. I'm having a hard time finding how to say this without making it sound like more than it was, or stupid. Basically, I saw pain in the bass player's eyes.

Our eyes did not meet. The world did not stand still. I was not mystically connected to him. This is not that kind of a story. I could see his eyes though, and there was pain and I felt it, and it just caught me in the gut. I am very prone to sympathetic pain, which you may notice if you ever tell me about an injury and you see me holding the part that was injured on my body. This was emotional pain, and I felt it for an instant.

(And I have no idea what it was about. He did have some tweets around that time that kind of sounded like something was up, but then someone asked about it and he said he was fine. All that really shows is that Twitter is not particularly useful for psychoanalyzing band members.)

After the initial burst of hurt passed, I felt bad for him, and there was not really anything to do about it, but I was impressed that he still put himself into the show. Certainly that was the professional thing to do, but also I think it was good for him. I believe it was good for him to be there on stage with his comrades, and to feel the energy of the audience, and to play through the pain.

I have written before about getting lost in the music. I have heard many artists talk about how writing certain songs helped them through things. I believe in the power of music and in the power of creativity.

I have not been as dedicated a musician as I could be, but that's the great thing. As good as it is to play and write music, listening does a lot too, and anyone can have that.

The beat goes on.