I usually have a problem disagreeing with things that most people say, even if their opinions are justified. Just because they are justified doesn't mean that I have to agree. It's an opinion, after all.  

While I was knitting and listening to a podcast this morning, there was a discussion about music and its relationship to language. That really did conjure up many ideas in my mind, as I am well-exposed to both music and language as two separate worlds. Rarely do they collide, and I can only handle so much when they do.

I understand that music does further language, as it has the ability to give a new dimension to words. With the addition of a huge variety of instruments, sounds, styles, keys, notes, and other devices of music, the language behind it can gain so much. Words will almost always be a verbal expression of feelings and thoughts, but music makes it physical, as a singer reaches down and up (metaphorically to some and not so much to others) for a high note and does the same to skim a low note, as well as pulling the words into it as well.

My problem with this dual manifestation of the human soul is that it too easily grows complacent. If music is the bridge between mortals and gods, the bridge between religion, race, culture, and so many other prejudices, then why are we hearing lyrics like "kiss me through the phone"? Things like that really prickle me, especially since those songs are considered to be in the "popular" category. Doesn't that fact drag the majority of young, vibrant minds into an abyss of drama and unneeded delusion? I would not want to "kiss someone through the phone", even if I didn't get to see him every day and as easy as that sounds, even if they requested it. It seems like a lazy, hopelessly stupid thing to say. After all, tangled emotions like that do exist. It's just that all of it could have so much more potential, if not reason to be discarded.

I understand that this sort of mentality certainly does not make up all of music, otherwise I would not own a radio or enjoy music as I do. Yet, why is it that some music, even if their makers call themselves artists, hinder the marvels of human interaction with all of its thoughtful laments and joys? Why must it so often channel something that we know too well, practically chucking it at us, instead of showing us a more intricate side of ourselves that we need a fellow human to help us see?