PRISONER EXPRESS

Music, metaphorically, invades all of our lives. Is there anyone that hasn't "Faced the Music" at some point in their lives, if only in their minds? I doubt it. Too many musical metaphors exist; that proves how important, and invasive, music is to all of us.

Human animals are very social creatures. Music brings us together to give people, both young and old, an excuse to touch and show off their bodies as part of elaborate courting ritual. It's fun and if not for music most of us would still be virgins.

Musical tastes vary. The music produced in the world has proven too diverse not to be adaptable to the opinions of the most discriminating listeners. My chosen music is rock. I like the older tunes with lots of bluesy guitar, think Eric Clapton and Stevie Ray Vaughan. You may disagree, that's your choice, but in my opinion you can't go wrong with bluesy rock and roll.

Music to soothe the savage beast is a questionable metaphor. Some music may soothe, but let's not forget about war drums. Some music can have that same psychological effect today. Heavy Metal, Hip-Hop, and Gangsta Rap are three that personally make me feel like killing something, usually the musicians. It's still a matter of choice. If we tune our radios to a channel that plays music full of rage we can expect a portion of that anger to take root inside us.

My favorite musical metaphor is the one about distant drums and marching to their beat. Maybe my life would have been easier if I could have joined in the rhythm "normal" society marched to. I never could stay in step. That infernal drumming led me on to a different path. If not for that I'd have followed the pack, but I wouldn't have become the person I am today. Since I'm pleased with who I am today, I can't very well complain about the process.

The beat hasn't changed. I still march out of step with society to the rhythm of a distant drum. It leads me onward, but my step is lighter these days. I go around obstacles when possible. In the old days, I went right through them. I didn't' have time for any detours. If the beat is the same then what has changed? It must be my interpretation; I've mellowed with age and education. Maybe the beat has mellowed too and I never noticed.

Whoever names the tune it is I who have been left to dance it. The cadence of that drum marched me into prison. It's doubtful it'll be able to march me out again, but my distant drum has also brought me to a place where I've found relative peace with myself and the world. For that I'll always be grateful.