Evolved

I share a special affinity with music. To a lot of people I know, and this is not a judgement on them but just an observation, music is simply something to be enjoyed. They listen to pop songs on the radio, sing along in the car and find their journey goes quicker; they fixate on new music playing in the office to ignore phone calls going on around them; some play music simply to fill silence.

For me, music is something to be experienced. I tend to avoid popular, current songs because they all sound the same to me; fun but without character. Not to mention they are played relentlessly on the radio and are worn out.
I like my music to have meaning and emotion. My favourite songs, they make me happy, they help me remember, they let me feel stronger. They have gotten me through tough times; in moments when I have felt worthless, meaningless and even unloved, unwilling to turn to others for help, it has been music that helped pull me out of the pit.
For some I build worlds and stories in my head. I own more than 650 songs. That's a lot of stories.
I can listen to the same song a hundred times and feel the same chill in my blood each time, as I mouth along - never sing along, the artist is doing just fine - and lose myself in the music. This is why I always opt for the soft, inner-ear earphones with noise cancellation, to contain the entire song in my head and drown out the outside world. Nothing but my mind and their music.

And today I have found a new one, that has affected me so much I feel the need to write about it.

Friday June 23rd 2017, release day of Imagine Dragons' new album Evolve. I am a huge fan of Imagine Dragons, ever since I downloaded their song Demons on a whim - which has since reached Spot Four in my personal list of 25 Favourite Songs. I have both their albums Night Visions and Smoke & Mirrors, and have played them - more so Night Visions - to the point of obsession. It is rare for me to own an album and enjoy all the songs on it, but Imagine Dragons are the exception. I remain convinced they cannot make a bad song and Evolve reinforces this belief.

We'd already been teased by pre-releases of singles (Believer, Thunder, Whatever It Takes) which have already reached a high point in my Times Played, and I was eager for more. By 9:05 this morning I had already downloaded the rest of the songs and was delving into the new stuff.

Track 5: Rise Up is the inspiration for this post.

While I like all their songs, there will always be one on an album - for all my chosen bands, not just Imagine Dragons - that I like the most. Demons, for Night Visions, Polaroid for Smoke & Mirrors. This is the choice for Evolve.

It caught me almost immediately, my blood ran cold within the first two lines of verse and I knew this was going to be a good one. Lead singer Dan Reynolds has an amazing voice in each and every song, but just occasionally it has that bit more power to it, a bit more spark, that you cannot hope but follow while he inspires belief. Demons has it. Monster has it. And now Rise Up has it.
It is my new fight song, the song that helps me feel stronger, the song that helps me believe in myself.
(Anyone who thinks that sounds cheesy might have the 'Enjoyment' relationship with music I outlined earlier - not to say that's a bad thing)
I listened to it trying my best not to well up, at the emotion, the empowerment, contained within the three minutes and fifty one seconds of song. Suffice to say, I listened to it again. Four more times, before moving on to the next one. I liked and enjoyed the rest, but didn't love them like I did Rise Up.

And at the end of this personal reflection, the song ended and I looked around me. My colleagues were chatting, laughing, working away and I looked at them like they were mad. How could they be so relaxed, when something so incredible, so amazing, had just occurred? What was there to chat about, when there was beauty and inspiration like this in the world?

This is my relationship with music. I love it, and I live it.

And I thank Imagine Dragons for everything they have given me. Eagerly awaiting whatever may come next.

# Want to see it all give me more (rise, rise up) #

- Robert

Charlie Never Got a Song

Deep in the heart of the factory, there's only one worker left to see,
no energy left for working, no energy left to sing,
his hair is grey, his eyes are white, his voice is all but spent,
but there's enough left in him, for the Oopma Loompa's lament.

...
Charlie Bucket, the one who'll luck it,
and saw it through to the end,
he became our new master, what else was he after?
was he ever truly a friend?

As each child left, he said not a word,
but we saw in his eyes, it's what he preferred,
his competition was gone and the whole thing benign,
the smile said it all, "now everything's mine."

So he saw one get squashed and he saw one inflated,
(we'll admit we all wanted the brat incinerated)
he just stood there in silence, watching the freaks,
soon everything was open to a couple of tweaks.

Then the factory was his, and we'll always know this,
that his expression was one when we knew we should run,
as he spread out his arms and said to us all,
"patronising freaks, I'll see your last fall."
...

The old one takes pause to reflect on the tale,
from a lost time when he wasn't so frail,
but he knows in his bones that his time is near done,
once he's recalled when they tried to run.

...
We ran and we hid and we tried different rooms,
that ultimately turned into personal tombs.
(For years people out there bought the new sweets,
never knowing who, not what, they ate in their treats)
We staff were first under Bucket's domain,
a cultivation out of shattered constrain,
only now do we know what started the pain,
that Charlie didn't want music again.

Old master clapped and smiled for all four of our rounds,
while Charlie was there all silent and frowns,
he hated our lessons, our morals in rhyme,
and plotted revenge, just biding his time.

So this requiem ends with the truth now known,
our twisted tale with all horror shown,
why the apparent "good child", old master's puppet,
had no fifth song, to him, Charlie Bucket.