I Wake Up To The Sound Of Music, Mother Mary Comes To Me, Speaking Words Of Wisdom, Let It Be, Let It Be, Let It Be

--"Let It Be", The Beatles

Back in high school I wrote a story involving a rather large cast of superheroes. I was very much into the idea of superheroes back then and it was only natural that a majority of my narratives revolved around their exploits. Most of my influences were other comic book heroes, plots, &c.... It was a simple affair to draw inspiration from all the other stories I read. However, there was one character whose genesis came from my love of music and the idea of music as a stabilizing force in one's life.

Her name was C.C. Harmony. Her back story played out much like the idea of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan fame. Somewhere in the world I imagined there existed an island where certain abandoned, abused, or otherwise neglected children could escape to through magical means. Once there the children ceased to age and were bestowed certain powers and abilities appropriate to their particular interests. The name of the island eludes me at the moment, but I remember the number of inhabitants were in flux except for a dozen or so children who simply refused to leave the island permanently. Foremost among them was one C.C. Harmony, a girl of unknown age, but on the outside looked no older than twelve. She had dirty blonde hair with a prominent red streak running down the front of it. She also had light blue eyes that were almost as clear as water. Other than that she had no distinguishing features except for the ever-present earphones nestled on her head.

She had three main powers. One, she could fly--as far and as fast as any jet plane. Two, she could shoot energy blasts that could send a villain flying into the next block or through two or three walls. Three, she could put up a force field that could block both bullets and energy beams alike.

And powering all of these wonderful powers? The music that she listened to through her headphones. The longer and the louder she played her music from the discman that was attached to her hip, the stronger her powers became. Sure, it was an homage to the Marvel hero Dazzler, who had similar abilities, but the genius was in the details. For you see, she didn't just listen to any old thing that she could get her tiny, little hands on. Her discman always played the same set of songs, songs she had listened to when she had escaped whatever fractured former life she used to have. And not only would she become empowered by the music from her youth, she would be affected by it too.

What could have been just an interesting character device became an apartment continuity element for her. Much like how I title every post that I write her with lyrics, each scene she was in was heavily influenced by whatever song happened to be playing in her ears. It became one more way to characterize her and to ground what could have been a fantastical creature in the world of the here and now. It humanized her in a way that was simple and immediately accessible to the reader.

----

I don't know--maybe that's just the way I think of music. It's not something you're supposed to do casually. It should be an interactive process whereby the sounds changes you and challenges you. Much like C.C. was empowered by the familiar strains emanating from her headphones, so too should music embolden you to feel that sense of being alive every second of every day. And rather than just listen any old ditty that comes on the radio you should develop a symbiotic relationship to the groups you favor. They shouldn't just fade away into obscurity from neglect. If you have a favorite song, a favorite band, a favorite genre--you should embrace their particular strengths. Rather than ever be afraid of associating yourself with what isn't en vogue with your circle or in your area of the world, you should be proud of your tastes because they're your tastes.

That's a lot of what informed C.C.'s character, the idea that if you give up your beliefs that you lose something intangible. She didn't have powers because the island gave it to her. There was no one to tell her that music was her touchstone. She had that belief from the day she was born. And she didn't give music the ability to assist in her efforts, that was always a part of her even before she got to the island. She saw for herself what a guiding force music in her life could be, what a touchstone to her makeup as a person it could be.

I take music in much the same way. Everything around could change--the people I associate with, the places I live, the philosophies I espouse--but as long as have my favorite songs within reach I know I'll remain intact. My soul and music go hand in hand because most of the life-affirming choices I've made and most of the monumental events that have transpired in my life carry with them a very distinct soundtrack. I don't ever forget what I was listening at the time something happened to me. I also don't grow tired of the songs of my youth. I don't know--maybe I'm afraid to let any music I used to listen to fall into neglect.

For much like the children from that island, neglect is something I tend to see as more profoundly devastating than outright hatred. At least with hatred there's a sense of involvement involved in the emotion. With neglect it's pure indifference, which is a far worse fate. And when you start down that path of neglecting the music that used to inspire you, transform you, and motivate you, it's only a short road to neglecting the other aspects of your life that provide you any sense of joy.

C.C. was much more than a character to me. She embodied a philosophy of mine whereby music, indeed, did have the power to change the world in a measurable way. In some small sense she was my acknowledgement that music had changed me in a measurable way... for the better. And much like C.C. and that island of hers, there would be no going back to a state of what I was like before I had found music.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers