His legacy lives chiefly in the sound of his instrument and its place in the music he pioneered, both of which seemed to allow a nation brutalized by colonial domination to access a richer and more joyous emotional life.
Since then, when I hear a song that I really love, if I have the aptitude to try and learn it, I usually do. And it's because of the same impulse. I want to feel what it feels like to make that song go.
I want to feel what it feels like to make that song go. I think that's taught me to recognize when a song of my own feels right. The same excitement I feel about someone else's song, the desire to be moved, is intact when I'm trying to write my own.
Maybe this is the essential blessing of the iPod: the software gives you the potential for an unlimited musical library, but the hardware's limits still lock you into a committed relationship with the songs you choose.
1mo ago
Underscored — save the words that stop you in your tracks.
