A couple of weeks ago, I met up with my friend Dax in Nashville to attend a pair of concerts. This was the annual “Morsefest,” when Neal Morse, one of our favorite musicians, puts on special concerts over a weekend for the fans who are die-hard enough to travel all the way to Nashville (from Minneapolis and Seattle, in our cases) to see them. Normally I wouldn’t go to such lengths for a concert, or even two, but this was an exception. Neal’s former band, Spock’s Beard, was staging a once-in-a-lifetime reunion with every person who had ever played in the band, to perform their double album “Snow” in its entirety, something that had never been done before and likely won’t ever happen again. Since “Snow” could very well by my all-time favorite album, this was definitely worth the trip.
“Snow” was being performed the second night. The first night was Neal and some other musicians he’s played with over the years putting on an acoustic Storytellers show. I knew all of the other musicians except one, a guitarist in Neal’s current band named Eric Gillette. His acoustic guitar playing was so smooth and skillful that I looked him up when I got home and downloaded his solo album. I was surprised when I heard it since it was more hard rock compared to what he’d done at Morsefest, but he still played with the same level of virtuosity. By the time I was halfway through the album, I knew I’d be listening to it a lot this summer, and would likely get to know the songs on it pretty well.
When I realized this, it occurred to me that listening to and getting to know a new album or a new favorite song is a lot like starting a new friendship, since you’re willingly building an emotional attachment to something you’ve invited into your life. You start out by making first impressions and learning more about the person, or the music, as time goes on. People have different characteristics that don’t always surface until you get to know them better, just like a piece of music has nuances that might not be noticed right away. The more time you spend with people or listen to music gives you more opportunities to learn about them, finding out things that might be pleasant surprises, like a deeper sense of humor, or a harmony you hadn’t isolated before. Of course this also means you might discover some more off-putting traits too, like a cruel snarkiness the person tries to hide, or a trite lyrical passage in an otherwise good song. In either case, you have to consider all of the positives and negatives together to decide how important that person or that music will be to you.
The more I thought about it, the more connections I saw between friendships and music. Just like it can be easier to get to know a person when they're introduced to you by someone you trust, you might be more willing to give an album a chance if it was recommended by someone who shares your musical taste. Favorite songs from long ago can bring back a flood of memories the same way catching up with an old friend can. We’ve all had people we’ve become close friends with very quickly only to have situations change when someone moves on to a different chapter of life, just like a new album can be overplayed when you first get it but then eventually fades out of rotation.
I suspect a lot of people have relationships inside their circles of friends that fulfill different needs, just like songs or albums might: friends we can talk to about anything, friends we know will always be there for us even if we haven’t seen them in years, friends who are liked by everyone and are always up for a good time, friends we connect with on deeper levels, friends that we probably wouldn’t have ever gotten to know if not for just accidental proximity, friends who are important to us even if we don’t always realize or acknowledge it because they’ve been around for so long.
During the first night at Morsefest, Dax spotted the bass player and the current drummer for Spock’s Beard sitting in the audience just two rows ahead of us. As we were leaving after the show, he acknowledged them with a friendly nod and said, “See you guys tomorrow night.” The thing was, we were far from the only people to see them. They weren’t disguised in ball caps and sunglasses or anything, but nobody at the show was making a scene about them being there, which is saying something when you consider this was in a venue filled with fans enthusiastic enough to travel from other time zones to see them play.
I think because we all knew their music so well and it had been such a companion for so many of us over the years, we viewed them with a comfortable familiarity. Inside of that, it was enough to respectfully acknowledge them and let them enjoy their night.
They may not have been our friends themselves, but they had at least introduced us to some important ones.
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