Quotes About Music

gangster rappers like Ludacris

Talking with her was like listening to a ballad on a radio station that fades in and out as you drive, sometimes clear and sentimental and tuned perfectly to the passing land, sometimes filled with static, lost, a song played too many times.

Its sound is the foundation of the rhythm of a band, often pounding out the basic pulse of the music or playing along with the bass player's rhythm.

snare drum creates the backbeat (the driving rhythm

I've been obsessed with seeing life through music. My records, my relationship with records, my relationship with rock stars, everything that surrounds it, has been really one of the only ways that I ever started to understand the world.

Music is most magical when everyone can lose the burden of self and be put back together as a part of something bigger, or other. I think of it as egos blending, singer into musician into listener. Something like that feels right to me. Anyway, it's something worth aiming for.

search for "Rich Kelly & Friendship" and "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing." Then watch it. In its entirety. But if you're in a hurry, fast-forward to the 1:35 mark, when the bassist breaks into a happy foot solo.

But when we experience pain or trauma, we're acutely aware that something is wrong. You want answers. "What is this? How do I get rid of this? Why is this happening to me? I don't want this." That's why so much art, and music, in particular, becomes a great commiserating balm for pain. Joy doesn't need to be audited. We're just grateful to have had it at all. But pain, goddammit, we demand to know Who's responsible for this?

There's an amazing opportunity that so few people ever have in their lives to fulfill a wish for somebody. It's so rare that such a simple act, like playing a song someone loves, can make someone so happy. If you have that opportunity—the power to do that for anyone—that's an incredible gift.

Melody is king. Songs are ruled by melody. I believe that melody, more than lyrics, is what does all the heavy lifting emotionally. When I write lyrics, or when I adapt a poem to a song, my goal is to interfere as little as possible with whatever spell is being cast by the melody. At the same time, I hope, at best, that the words enhance the song somehow, add meaning or clarify and underline what the melody is making me feel.

I believe words contain worlds of words and meanings that are, more often than not, locked beneath the surface. Poetry is what happens when words are opened up, and those worlds within are made visible, and the music behind the words is heard. And songs do that, too, just in a different order.

You can't quit because there's a Beyoncé in the world. You can't quit because you went to see the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and realized that everyone on stage knows more about music than you ever will.

you will hear something that you want to keep. Or hear something that reminds you of something else. Songwriters are just people who have claimed those things—who give themselves credit. Who say they invented rock and roll. And you can do it, too. You just invented a song. You just invented music.

if you allow yourself the time and willingness to experiment, you will hear something that you want to keep. Or hear something that reminds you of something else. Songwriters are just people who have claimed those things—who give themselves credit. Who say they invented rock and roll. And you can do it, too. You just invented a song. You just invented music.

Stockpiling Words, Language, and Lyrics—doing exercises like freewriting, writing poems, refining, and revising, all of which I'll talk about in the next section Stockpiling Music, Songs, and Parts of Songs—making demo recordings, practicing, learning other people's songs, and writing parts for songs in progress Pairing Words and Music—writing lyrics to a melody and searching for matches between stockpiled demos and lyric sets, poems, and freewriting

Sometimes it can take me a while to relearn my own songs, but I've gotten better over the years at keeping a record of the tunings I'm playing in and/or capo positions. But there are some songs from long ago that I've never been able to figure out. Songs that will never be finished

take the final necessary steps—arranging and recording—needed to dress my songs up enough to send them out into the world.

A theory was forming in his head, like a musical composition he could hum from vague memories but not quite yet name or play.

The darkness enveloped us. All I could hear was the violin and it was as if Juliek's soul had become the bow. He was playing his life...He played that which he would never play again.

It was pitch dark. I could hear only the violin, and it was as though Juliek's soul were the bow. He was playing his life. The whole of his life was gliding on the strings--his last hopes, his charred past, his extinguished future. He played as he would never play again...When I awoke, in the daylight, I could see Juliek, opposite me, slumped over, dead. Near him lay his violin, smashed, trampled, a strange overwhelming little corpse.

I shall never forget Juliek. How could I forget this concert given before an audience of the dead and dying? Even today, when I hear that particular piece by Beethoven, my eyes close and out of the darkness emerges the pale and melancholy face of my Polish comrade bidding farewell to an audience of dying men.

Next to him lay his violin, trampled, an eerily poignant little corpse.

He was playing his life. His whole being was gliding over the strings. His unfulfilled hopes. His charred past, his extinguished future. He played that which he would never play again. I shall never forget Juliek. How could I forget this concert given before an audience of the dead and dying? Even today, when I hear that particular piece by Beethoven, my eyes close and out of the darkness emerges the pale and melancholy face of my Polish comrade bidding farewell to an audience of dying men.

Ty nejlepÅ¡í nové písnÄ› se zapíÅ¡ou do pamÄ›ti, budou putovat od jednoho zpÄ›váka k druhému, vylepÅ¡ovat se a dopl?ovat. A za sto let možná pÃ…â"¢ijde nÄ›jaký folklorista a nazve je folkovými písni?kami. NáÅ¡ prach proti tomu nebude nic namítat.