Quite a while back now, Patrick asked me to help him put together the music for his wedding. Now, I'm nobody's fool, Patrick has provided probably as much help as he's had time for on this front (and he's provided quite a bit), but he's the groom, so the task more rightly falls on me. It's a nice compromise all things considered, as it gives me something to worry about and I feel like I'm doing something useful for his wedding, and he knows the tastes that he's leaving his music with. So after sending a few albums my way to make sure I fill some holes that are more to his (or Lisa's) liking, mostly I've been sitting here, listening to lots of Portishead and Junior Boys, MMW and other such things that he sent over and trying to figure out how I make that fit into a list. Or lists, as the case may be. It's an instructive experience for me as I don't do things for other people well.
That isn't to say I don't feel like I'm a helpful person. What I mean by that is I have a tendency to do what I like, read what I want, listen to what suits me, etc. If other people agree, go along, or care to discuss those things, all the better, but I don't necessarily suit the activities and tastes that I have to other people. And while making playlists for a wedding that are certainly going to have the stamp that says "Jane Natoli made this playlist" (which is how My Bloody Valentine ends up on it), these songs are for other people.
I'm very much the same way as a writer. I hope that what I put down on the paper or the screen works for someone else, but I don't necessarily go out of my way to explicitly make that a goal. Egotistically, I'm fine with that, but if life is a series of learning when to compromise, I should consider that sometimes I have to do things that I don't particularly want to in order to do the things I want to.
Normally, I don't expect other people to like what I like when it comes to music. This could be cynicism; it could be a deep-seated desire to have something to myself; it could just be that I like weird shit. But mostly, I think it's just me being an only child. I don't really like to share. As much as I lament how other people don't enjoy the music I listen to (at least, other people I know), I also like to be the girl that has one of the 300 copies of that limited edition 7". Certainly we are all unique in our tastes, but I want to be notably unique. Most likely, I am, but that means that I have no one to talk about the Tennis 7" with because I don't know anyone else who's heard of it, and I'm not exactly the most inviting when it comes to my taste.
I pondered this phenomenon, and it runs across other kinds of media that I own as well. Especially in my books, I've learned that I enjoy difficult things. I like the challenge of reading Huxley and figuring it out. Which is odd because in a lot of other aspects of my life, I've been known to shirk from challenges and take the easy path. But when it comes to my music and my books, I do not seek the lowest common denominator. I understand why people like those things. Consider them the Black-Eyed Peas of the world, or the Danielle Steeles. They shouldn't be disparaged by any means as they certainly serve a purpose for a lot of people. But they don't serve a purpose for me. This isn't to say I don't like pop, as I certainly own songs that a lot of people own that have sold millions of copies and I've read a best-seller or two in my time and contributed to putting it on the list in the first few weeks. There's nothing wrong with wanting something from music that doesn't make you work as hard, and I can respect that, but it's not what I want, and I have to honor that. All of which takes me back to what I'm doing for Patrick.
The goal is to find that middle ground. Certainly I'm still going to slot things that people have never heard of that I think do a good job of providing whatever I need. If that means I'm going to play a song like "Blind" by Hercules and Love Affair when it comes time to dance, well, tell me, who can't dance to that? It might not be what everyone (or anyone) else there has heard, but it'll certainly do the job. However, I have to rein in that impulse sometimes, and let things pass, and if I can't find a place for something, well, I can't find a place for it, because there's gotta be room for stuff that people can access, that they've heard of, and while the goal of the music is to be memorably forgettable (by which I mean people will say the music was good, but when pressed, won't be able to recall more than a couple songs) for something like a wedding, I want it to be remembered. But it's not my wedding. When it is my wedding, then I'll make sure that you hear "First Day Of My Life" by Bright Eyes. Unless my hypothetical future husband disagrees or a song significant to our relationship comes up, I don't see any other song as my first dance. That's my wedding. But this, this is Patrick's.
So sure, there will be some slyly hidden gems that are for me. Many of them, if Patrick even notices, he will also appreciate. I've got enough music here to compromise and make a good, danceable, fun playlist that will work for a wedding without having to resort to my Journey. But it's there if I need it and I would do well to remember that, because the order of needs in this should be Patrick and Lisa, guests, me. While I'm a guest, I can listen to my music whenever I want, which means I can sit here and play video games and blast out some Jimmy Eat World all on my lonesome. It's certainly not a natural state for me, but I'm trying to invite people in, not drive them out. Maybe I should try that a little more.
0 comments:
Post a Comment