The Power of Music

This topic is something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about, even before this year. However this particular post was spurred by a notification I received from Spotify asking me if I wanted to accept a message request from Ben. While totally jarring at first, this new feature showed me the songs we’d sent to each other through the years which was a nice walk down memory lane and got me thinking about the role music has in our lives.

Music, it’s like oxygen to me. There are so many different types, so there’s always a song or genre fitting for any given moment. Upbeat and unserious lyrics for when I need to move my body. Soulful vocals that feel like a hug and put me at ease. Classical strings filled with passion that have the potential to bring tears to my eyes or make me focus on a task at hand. Songs made for singing along from theatre and film I enjoy. The twang of a banjo or guitar to remind me of my roots. The release of Spotify Wrapped is a highlight of my calendar every year, although I think we can all agree it used to be much better.

When Ben first passed, it only took me a few days before I remembered he had quite a few playlists on Spotify. I began listening to them around the clock, even at a low volume while I was sleeping. The silence was deafening and the songs he’d hand picked helped me feel closer to him. Ben was like me, a fiend for music. However he was more selective with his tunes, gravitating towards well known artists of the 80s. That’s to say that while my music taste reaches far and wide, his is more personal and identifiable.

There’s an episode of the podcast The Anthropocene Reviewed called “The Hall of Presidents and New Partner”. The concept of the podcast, if you’re unfamiliar, is John Green ‘reviewing different facets of the human-centered planet on a five-start scale’. Keeping with his novels and Crash Course History videos, Green’s candid story telling has a way of reminding you how precious life is. In the second half of this particular episode Green talks about his favourite song, New Partner by Palace Music. He describes moments throughout his life where he listened to this song. I won’t spoil his review for you, but I will share his last few lines: “You probably have a different song. I hope it carries you places you need to visit without asking you to stay in them.”

In the first few hours after I found out about Ben’s passing, I was sitting in a cafe with a friend. I didn’t want to be there. But I also didn’t want to be at home. I didn’t want to be around other people. But I also didn’t want to be alone. While we sat at a table trying to enjoy our coffees, Tiny Dancer came on. I was immediately taken back to Ben and I sat in a rental car parked by a secluded beach in Jersey. We sang along to Tiny Dancer between stuffing our faces with cheese and crackers before getting out to scour the beach for cool rocks. I began to cry but not as hard as I cried when My Sweet Lord played immediately after. My Sweet Lord, although a well known song, is not a song I’ve ever heard played in public. And it is a song I was introduced to by Ben. During the first few weeks of knowing each other, we were telling each other about our lives (as you do). Ben pulled up My Sweet Lord on his phone to play for me and said “This song reminds me of my dad”. 

One day, over six months after his death, I had one of Ben’s playlists on shuffle. I wasn’t aware that both Tiny Dancer and My Sweet Lord were on that playlist but they played in the same order again. There was a .003% chance of that happening, I looked it up. I always hear Teardrops by Womack & Womack when I’m abroad, a song that Ben had on repeat and we would duet together. Whenever I leave volunteering, the radio by the door at the care home always seems to be playing a song relevant to Ben. When I left a meeting to set up a charity day in Ben’s memory, Michael Jackson (Ben’s favourite artist) was playing on the building’s speaker system as I left. Some may call them synchronicities, others may call them signs. Regardless of your belief, there is no arguing the power of music.