When I picked up my first bass five years ago, it was huge. Unmanageable. Foreign. A beast of burden. I wasn't very good, and really I'm not a virtuoso now, but recently I've had a feeling I hadn't felt since I was locked in with the drummer of my band in his basement in our last practice before the end of school and the end of one of the best unities possible. Of bangin' on the same beat, of groovin', laying down the backbone. Could last all day, in my memory it can. I don't have a band, but I have a feeling.
That feeling of connectedness to music. It's an emotion, though I'm not certain of its name. Is it insight? Joy? The fretboard is smaller, malleable now. Natural. There's some sort of edge, some frontier I crossed to become musically confident. Wrote a song the other day. And even if it becomes nothing. What a feeling. Is it better to be lost or found in music?
I close my eyes, fold back into my chair and "Idioteque" by Radiohead plays. It's calm, sad, invigorating, and quietly hopeful. Peace in the beats. When song is done. I stand up and look at my planner. See what's up and move to the groove.
People say they get lost in music. Some listen to their iPods as they cross the street. Some don't own a pair of headphones. Some travel around, strumming what they strum. Are you lost or found?