Music is collaborative.
I'd like to think I'm individual when it comes to music, but that's such a lie. My music library is a delicate mesh of my dad's music, KLove music, Sarah's music, Hannah's music, Michael's music, Jacob's music, Laura's music, and the music that rocks the soundtrack of House, Lie to Me, and Ignite. Good music is like a good recipe or an epic movie, it's just better when there's someone to share it with, so we pass it around.
From my dad I learned to love ballads and story songs. From Jacob I learned that songs can be punk and still have strong piano. From Michael I learned that long intros can enhance songs. From Sarah I learned it's okay for songs to be silly. From Hannah I learned that Canada makes amazing music. From Laura I learned that weird music can still be good music. From the Ingite playlist I learned it's okay to like hip-hop and phunk.
Music is connecting.
The best tool for forging relationships is common threads. When you feel like you're understood by someone, you instantly have a connection. And music is one such common thread, something that is a part of everyone, whether they listen to Taylor Swift in the car or play cello in an orchestra. Music is something that connects the brain and the mind and the heart and the soul, and can translate to another human being. We all get it. Music is by definition common ground.
Last summer I met this girl named Julie at the beach. When we started talking I was freaking out inside because I lack the ability to carry a one-on-one conversation with even a close friend for more than three minutes. And she was a complete stranger. I turned to every teen's default conversation starter, "So what bands are you into?" And I crossed my fingers she didn't like rap. We ended up spending the entire afternoon talking about the evolution of rock music.
I'm kind of thankful for music today.