It’s 3.00am again. It’s gotten to the point where my sleeping schedule doesn’t even surprise me anymore. It’s gotten to the point where my earphones have almost broken after only three weeks because I’ve used them so often. It’s gotten to the point where a world without music seems like a very lonely place indeed.
This 3.00am isn’t different to any other 3.00am. It’s familiar. My favourite time of day. Those few moments where it feels like I’m the only human being alive on earth. My eyes are squinting from the light of my phone as I scroll endlessly through Spotify. I’m tapping every ‘related artist’, every new tiny square of cover art, every last 3 minute escape that I can listen to for the first time.
Discovering new music is my therapy. There’s no single metaphor on this earth which I could use that would describe that experience perfectly. It’s that hair-standing-on-end feeling. That “What did I do with my life before I heard this song?” feeling. Those goosebumps. Headphones in, world out. It’s such an over used cliche phrase, yet so perfectly accurate.
3.03am. I’m lying in my bed, which is comfortable in itself, however, it’s not the pillows and blankets which make me feel most comfortable, it’s the sound of LANY’s ‘Made In Hollywood’ spilling out of my earphones and into my lonely brain. Music fills this empty space in my body which no other human being ever could. Nothing fills me with more joy than hearing perfect chord progressions. Nothing fills me with more satisfaction than hearing lyrics which are so accurate that it feels as though the writer has plucked every thought from my very own brain and scribbled them down on paper. Simply nothing.
My music taste has no limits. I get as much comfort and escape from power ballads as I do from musical soundtracks or heavy punk. Escape. I think that word is significant when describing my relationship with music. I’m a teenager. I’m extremely grateful for everything I have in my life and I try not to take what I do have for granted, but I’m only human, and so, the road is often bumpy. I struggle with anxiety on a daily basis and often, music is one of the only things I can turn to for support. Comfort. Reassurance. “I’ve got this”. It’s crazy, but also magical, when you think about it, how a few chords can change your day completely.
Music is also the main reason why I practically have no money at the moment. I spend almost every penny on vinyls, CDs, my monthly Spotify subscription, memoirs, guitar accessories. How do you describe that smell of a brand new lyric book which hits your nostrils when opening a CD case for the very first time? How do you describe that feeling when you slide a 12″ out of its sleeve and just hold it for a little while, staring? That moment when you’re browsing a record store endlessly and you finally spot what you’ve been searching for, or you’re reminded of an artist that you’ve been meaning to revisit for ages? I can’t. And that’s why I love music just that little bit more than anything else. It leaves me speechless, but also full of so many words that I find myself awake, when the rest of the world is asleep, tapping endlessly at my phone, with words fumbling here, there and everywhere.