The act of listening to music is unlike any other sensory activity that we as humans engage in. There truly is no comparison. Whether it’s placing a needle on vinyl, the click of a computer mouse, or rewinding a cassette tape, the process is tactile, but the reward is completely visceral.
Sound. Vibrations. Music. You can turn it up, blast it. You can listen by yourself while you weep in a dark room. You can share it with friends and strangers dancing and screaming. Then it sticks with you. It stays. There’s a memory created, so that the next time you hear that song or that specific album, you’re taken back to a certain time and place.
Not to get too philosophical here, but that’s exactly where my mind goes when I think of a band such as Hawthorne Heights.
Google
Facebook
