+++ title = “03” date = 2019 +++

Sometimes the music I listen to is a lot like the food or drink I consume.

I was sitting in my living room with my Discovery Weekly playlist on Spotify, with the 5pm sunlight streaming through the window. I was playing with my son on our couch and he was being particularly smiley and giggly that day. And then, this song by Eric Whitacre came on. He had taken the words to the popular children’s book Goodnight, Moon and he had turned it into a gorgeous choral arrangement.

At this particular moment, we were about to take Dezi to his daycare for a test run. We just wanted to leave him there for an hour or so in order for him to get acquainted with the house, and get familiar with its smells, sounds, and sights. And I guess there was a low-key anxiety about him starting daycare that was sitting somewhere in the back of my brain, and for whatever reason this moment (the sunlight, the giggly child, the intense choral arrangement of such a wonderful classic) brought me to tears.

Not just a couple of tears either. I would describe it as full on bawling. I don’t know if I’ve cried like that in a while.

So I do what I always do when I hear a piece of music that moves me in some way: I added it to my monthly playlist. But if the song ever comes on in the car, you’d better believe that I switch it off. It’s one of the most gorgeous pieces I think I’ve ever heard, and yet I can’t consume it on a daily basis because of how powerful it is.

Then there are some songs, mostly the poppy quick ones with catchy choruses, that I pop like candy. I will play these songs up multiple times a day, and in some situations I’ll have the song on a loop for about 24-48 hours. I did this with Zedd & Maren Morris’ hit The Middle.

In the same way that scotch on the rocks can be fulfilling but you can’t drink it every day, or how you end up eating all the chips at a party without realizing it, songs can be kept in a cellar until you need the emotion, and they can also be kept in a plastic container in your car like mints, ready to pop out when the impulse strikes.