Transition music happens
It’s easy to pass time without recognition of routine impulses. As an avid creature of habit, I like to consider greater purpose when my standard large coffee with a splash of cream or running route through the neighborhood gets revised. “An extra shot of espresso? What does it mean?”
Ok, it probably just means I got an hour less sleep. But these adaptations are sporadic enough to make me question them. Incidentally, I think the same can be done for music we choose to play. This, magnified by my first full-time job where I spend eight hours straight listening to music, brings me to consider music for transition, music for change.
Everyone is familiar with music making the highs higher and the lows lower. From the iconic mixtape given in a high school romance to the Taking Back Sunday that serenaded the breakup, it’s an infamous coping mechanism. However, there are certain artists I’ve been turning toward during a time of unrest, an anti-static life.
A non-stationary life is scary. It sort of reminds me of the Cold War Kids’ lyrics of “Golden Gate Jumpers,” she’s scared to jump / but terrified to stay. This blatant reference to suicide also serves as a metaphor for the unknown. Is it worth taking a risk to discover the infinite possibilities? An uncertain life—those infinite possibilities—is also exciting.
My soundtrack of change includes lots of larger-than-life ballads and powerful vocals. London Grammar and Volcano Choir have been on my radar. I’ve heard the latter described as the sensation of being an eagle gliding above mountaintops. I like that. I like feeling as though everyday minutiae is extraordinary. Because it can be.
