I listen to a LOT of music. I cannot live without music. As a fan of music, I love music from a wide variety of genres. I love and enjoy listening to Hip Hop, Heavy Metal, Mo Town, R&B, House, Dancehall Reggae, Jazz, Funk, Techno, Korean Pansori, Nigerian Apala (Yoruba), Afrobeats, Afrobeat (yes, there is a difference), Korean Trot, Alternative, New Country, and Classical.
Of all the music that I enjoy, classical music generates the most emotional response in me. House music makes me feel positive, upbeat, and happy. It also makes me want to dance. Classical music on the other hand, makes me feel happy, positive, and upbeat, but it also makes me feel sadness, despair, struggle, triumph, power, explosive, hopeful, and physically drained. It can bring tears to my eyes or make me yell for joy… especially the cadenza from Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3.
Some pieces of classical music bring the listener on a true emotional rollercoaster ride. For example, listen to Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in B Minor, Opus 32, Number 10. The intense middle section of this wonderful piece transports me through a metaphorical wilderness – lost and alone but driven by some primal urge to conquer the towering, foreboding mountain that stands imposingly before me.
As I begin my ascent up the mountain’s rocky cliffs and narrow passes, sharp stones and pebbles rain down upon me, cutting my hands and feet. But I push myself harder, compelled by forces I don’t fully understand to reach the summit. My muscles ache, my lungs burn, but still I climb.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of struggle, I pull myself up over the peak and collapse in exhaustion. As I lay there regaining my strength, the storm clouds break, and I’m bathed in warm sunlight. The view from the top is breathtaking – I can see for miles in every direction.
In the distance lies the low-rise apartment block where I grew up, looking exactly as I remember it. A flood of nostalgia washes over me as I think back to carefree days playing in the courtyard with my friends, sharing meals around the dinner table with my family, falling asleep each night feeling safe and loved.
I ache to visit my old apartment building again, to walk those familiar halls and see the people I knew. But I know that things have changed, that my home is no longer the place I remember. The world has moved on while I’ve been on my solitary journey. I can never go back, only forward.
As the sun begins to set, I settle down near the mountain peak to rest. Staring out at the horizon, I continue reminiscing about my childhood as I slowly drift off to sleep, the image of my apartment block fixed firmly in my mind. When I wake, I will begin the long, arduous descent back down the mountain to rejoin the world. But for now, I am content, laying here looking through the window from my new condo.