So What?

A couple of years ago, I was accompanying my friend's “friend”'s sister in the back seat of his ride while we were driving somewhere to get something to eat. I don't remember how I was invited, but I was pretty sure it was not a double date. I was, however, supposed to keep this girl company, which wasn't a problem; I've been a designated not-so-pretty friend fodder in the past (aka, wingman).

Although I'm not terribly attractive, I do think I have a winning personality when I'm on my psych meds (just a bit of alcohol, no SSRIs). I can listen like the best of them, nod my head, and say stuff like 'uh huh' to pretend like I'm interested. It's all in a day's work. Like a good medical professional, I don't ever come across as surprised or shocked (you can't imagine the weird things people call about in the middle of the night).

So this friend's friend's sister (let's abbreviate with FFS from now on) was absolutely gaga over something on her iPod. Respectfully, I asked her what all the rage was. She gave me the headphones, turned it to this genius's best track and told me to listen. FFS went so far as to shove the left headphone into my right ear. Again, I handle it in wingman fashion and give her a stellar smile.

'What am I supposed to be listening to?'

'Just listen! The first part isn't that great, but the good part is coming up. Do you hear it?'

'Uh... yea. This part right here?'

FFS nodded her head. I nod my head too to mirror her body movements (working on my 'game').

'Yea, it's really uh... great...'

'I know, right?!? He's like a genius. I want to have his love-child!'

She did say the world 'love-child'; I'm not exaggerating. I was obviously cut off from the land of the mentally stable and sane. I picked out some stuff from the 'music' and asked questions to try to get her to talk (this is an intermediate gaming technique).

'The sound of the baby crying. What do you think he means there?'

FFS said some incoherent stuff which I have forgotten.

'And the...what do they call them? Cymbals?'

'Like oh my gosh, you heard those too? Those are a representation of his blah blah blah...'

Utter, unadulterated refuse. Garbage. Stuff that the Oscar the Grouch on Sesame Street wouldn't allow in his abode (which is a trash can), and she thinks it's genius. I don't remember the artist's name (and I use the term 'artist' quite liberally), but I probably wouldn't want to name him, just to avoid any libelous lawsuits. I'm sorry, but mixing together clips of babies crying, doors closing, people screaming, together with some cymbals and percussion and woodwinds do not make a good song.

What is good music? Peoples' tastes vary dramatically. In my iPod, I have an eclectic mix of decades old rock (Eagles, Kansas, Journey, Pink Floyd, etc), hardcore gangsta rap (Tupac, Snoop, and the like), southern 'country rap tunes' (aka UGK), some contemporary pop (Taylor Swift & Colbie Caillat), and my first jazz album: Miles Davis's Kind of Blue [Legacy Edition]. Art and music are whatever you make them to be. I won't like everything the next person likes, and he/she won't like everything I like (especially when it's Pimp C telling a girl to 'get her knees dirty' and do stuff with his 'pipe'). I certainly didn't enjoy that gibberish that girl pumped unconsented into my ears.

I used to be quite close-minded in my choice of music. Being an inner-city kid, I've always enjoyed the heart-skipping bass of a good beat, interlaced with words of violence and desperation against a life we didn't choose to live. The rap I listen to makes me think about the human condition, how to rise up, how to succeed, or simply how to live in all this madness. That's why I listen to Tupac and not this modern drivel about doing the 'stanky leg' or 'soulja boy'. Most popular music nowadays (stuff that gets serious airtime) seem one-dimensional, choosing to focus on the materialism, money, and fame to block out the realities of poverty, ignorance, and hopelessness. But that's a diatribe for another day.

What opened my mind out of my monopoly of rap was a National Public Radio (NPR) segment about Miles Davis. It played a clip from 'So What', the iconic track from the iconic album 'Kind of Blue.' The first couple of trumpet blares seemed to ask 'so what?' And it repeated asking 'so what? So what? So what?' Then another trumpet (or the same trumpet) went on a solo to answer the question, in a deeply melodic fashion. Although in answering, it seemed to even evoke the same question, 'so what?' Then there was the backdrop of the bass and piano, both keeping time and complementing the horns.

I know I'm such a jazz newbie, but there was something so magical about that first time I listened to Miles Davis that made me want to confess my undying love to the genre. The music seems to take a collection of the problems of society today, put them in concert seats, and play them a chorus of 'so what?'

When I listened, truly listened, to jazz for the first time, my inner soul said to me, 'So what about violence and oppression? So what about poverty and ignorance? So what about people dying? As long as you're alive to recognize the problem, there is still hope. But you mustn't let the thoughts of all the evil in the world crush you under its weight. And if you need a moment to forget the problems and scream out “So what?”, it will be alright.

'Tomorrow will be another day. Tomorrow you will resume to fight, whatever the 'fight' may be. If you're a little tired today, go rest and regroup. You are not giving up; you are simply taunting death if but for a moment, for no one gives the reaper the slip. But you won't die today, and hopefully not tomorrow.'

So if you've never sat down to listen to Jazz, I challenge you to turn everything off, all your phones and other electronic knick-knacks, silence the rumble of your many thoughts, click this link (Miles Davis's So What) and experience an other-worldly experience. What does jazz have to say to you? What does your soul have to say to you if you only but stopped and listened?

If you don't like it, so what? Not everything is for everyone. But if you do like it, don't keep the secret. Go tell it on the mountain.