Life should be a musical. One big long loud colorful musical where all communicating is done via song and dance. We’ll live in a magical place where even the most tone-deaf of us instantly become pitch perfect. Where we, whose dance skills were formerly limited to the tight small endless circling with a partner during the slow songs at weddings, suddenly become masters of salsa, swing, tap, and all manner of smoothness in motion. And of course there must be jazz hands. Yes, I said jazz hands, and since I’m the imaginary ruler of this mystical Musiclandia I must insist upon jazz hands because they are fun and that is that. How could this possibly go wrong? Ok, maybe if we were subjected to an endless stream of nonstop polka music… But otherwise, who would not want to be in a place where you never have to talk, instead relaying your thoughts and feelings in perfect harmony for all of time? I know I’d spend at least a good 40% of my days belting out nothing but Neil Diamond tunes, and wouldn’t that be, as The Diamond himself says, a beautiful noise?
Think about it- how could a life in musical be anything less than perfect? Take a look at West Side Story. Here you have two rival gangs fighting it out for a small gritty piece of territory, fueled by teen angst and twirling, soaring dance jumps. Even in the midst of the climatic rumble scene, there is ballet in the very stabbings of two lead characters. So you know that deep down while they are gangbangers they are the best sort, singing of love and a better world, and that they are truly simply (as they’ll tell you in glorious song) misunderstood. At the end of the day the remaining gang members come together in somber yet accepting terms. So it would be in our rhythmic utopia. Disputes would be quickly settled with, say, a rap-off or a break dancing competition. We wouldn’t have to burden ourselves with silly little jobs as we wouldn’t need money because we could simply…wait for it…sing for our supper!! Oh, and anyone with a playlist filled with mostly 80s feel good ditties and hair band metal will immediately be installed as a majorly important dignitary in our fair metropolis, to include having your handprints (jazz handprints, of course), immortalized forever in cement in the city square!
I don’t think there is any greater mood elevator than a song. If you’re already in a good mood the right song kicks it up a notch to a great mood. Try listening to the first few chords of AC/DC’s Back in Black…if you don’t feel a huge rush then there is no help for you, and I must banish you forevermore from Musiclandia. Even when you are pissed off, music can empower you! Turn it up loud and “Boom!” within minutes you are ready to take on the world. For me it’s The Who cranking out Love Reign O’er Me, oh yeah! (If anyone is in the vicinity I power lip sync as my singing voice has been known to cause cats to scurry for cover and grown men to grab their keys and head for Walmart. And you know no man in his right mind willingly heads to Walmart! But I fear not, for once we are all teleported to Musiclandia I will be a STAR!) Down and out and feeling low? Put on some serious, soulful stuff like The Temptations or Simon & Garfunkel and just listen. Let yourself sink down into the marrow of the song, and suddenly even through your depression you’re struck by how incredibly friggin’ brilliant this song is. And if only you had only written this song then you’d be friggin’ brilliant, too, and so-and-so never would have left someone as brilliant as you. And then you realize that you ARE friggin’ brilliant because you found this song, you get this song, you friggin’ live in this song!
Now tell me friends, won’t you be my neighbors in Musiclandia? Tell me what songs you’d absolutely have to bring along…just leave the polka behind and bring your best jazz hands!