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That Feeling When You Share Music That Means A Lot to You & the Other Person Gets It

·359 words·2 mins

“I was obsessed with this track when I was 12,” I tell you, cuing it up. “I used to replay it over and over again, trying to work out all the notes in the sax solo. They’re hard to hear in some parts. And the sound of the choir behind the saxophonist, with all the super square harmonies… it’s clearly something from an another era. Which it is. But I mean… you can really tell.”

You nod. Ask me what year it’s from.

It takes me some fiddling with the UI because I can be derpy like woah, especially when I’m excited (which I am, eager to play this track for you) and/or nervous, which I also am, because I don’t know if you’ll like it — or even pay attention to it. I’m used to people not necessarily wanting to sit there and listen to music I like with me.

And to be fair to other people, I’ve had times when I’ve been with someone, and they keep wanting me to listen to their music — and I’ll listen politely, but I don’t like the music, and it gets so uncomfortable when the track is over and they are prepared for me to gush.

Look, music can be subjective. Just because I love something, it’s not necessarily going to be someone else’s cup of tea. Yes, even if we love each other.

But I can’t help it. This track is from a difficult year of my life. A bright spot in that difficult year. And sharing it with you feels oddly vulnerable.

Anyway, I fumble and discover it was recorded in 1953. You grin.

I start the track. The music begins, and I slip away with it, spirited away to working out the transcriptions in a long ago and far away practice room.

I surface when the track is over. And it’s at that moment that I realize you’ve listened carefully. That you like the track too. And you totally get it.

At that moment, I’m swept away by the most powerful emotion. It’s like we time traveled together to a stop that meant a lot to me.


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