(Or, why I no longer own dozens of decent-ish albums)
I’m going to tell you a story that was once told to me and that dramatically changed my music collection (and life, but that’s not as important) for a few years. (This is paraphrased, because 9th grade was a really long time ago.)
I made you some brownies. They look awesome and smell oh-so-chocolate-y! I put extra chocolate chips in them. I took ‘em out of the oven a little early, too. So, they’re nice and soft, but the edges are still firm. There’s just one thing, though. Before you take that massive bite, I should probably tell you that just before I put them in the over, I decided they needed an extra special ingredient. I didn’t have anything else chocolate in my house, so I just went for adding something brown. I added some poop to the brownies. Not much! Just a tiny bit! You’re still going to eat them, right?
(Your answer should be “No.” If it’s not, you should stop reading my blog and go have a conversation with a professional.)
Of course you don’t want these brownies. They’re poo brownies. Even though it was just the tiniest bit of poo, it’s still ruining the brownies. Well, that’s how the music you listen to can effect your self and your relationship with God. If you’re being a good Christian, but you’re listening to bad, secular music, it’s still affecting you, whether you realize it or not. You need to get rid of that music. You should only listen to music that glorifies God.
That was a conversation that took place at a youth group meeting after church one Sunday evening. We were instructed to bring all our “bad,” “secular” music to church next week to purge it from our lives. The following Sunday night we took turns putting each of our collections into a pillowcase and beating them up, pulverizing the poo out of our brownies. A couple weeks later, as a reward, we were each given one shiny new Christian CD from the genre we liked most. I trashed over two dozen albums, including the entire KoRn discography (which I now realize wasn’t an horrific loss), and walked away with one new CD.
Each time I’m playing "the lyrics game" with my friend, Keeper, and he quotes something off Smashing Pumpkins’, “Mellon Collie and Infinite Sadness,” I sigh and whimper at the loss of that magnificent double-album. And each time I whine over the shattered greatness, he reminds me of what an idiot I was for trashing all those CDs. Most of the time, I silently agree.
Of course, there was an upside to the strange gesture. I’m not sure God really cares all that much about what music I listen to. But, I do believe that a thirteen or fifteen-year-old’s mood can be dramatically altered by their surroundings, including the things they listen to on their red boomboxes. At that point in my life, I already had enough things to be angry or depressed about- the last thing I needed was Jonathan Davis bringing me down even more. But as an adult, I’m more capable of listening to a morose song and not letting it get to me. It’s easy as you grow older to chose whether to allow music to manipulate your mood. I’ve long since given up on giving up “bad” music. And now that I’m able to make the choice of how a song will affect me, I miss quite a few of the albums from that pillowcase.
Of course, as an adult, I’m also capable to repurchasing those albums. But, I think most of them are best left in the sale bin for someone else’s money.
This song, though, will always have a place in my heart. But only when I’m alone. In my car. With the windows up. On an empty highway. You know, where I don’t stand a chance of anyone looking over, reading my lips and believing, even for a second, that this is the shit I listen to on a regular basis.
We had a good run, KOЯN, and you're an awesome live show. But, when our time ended, it was better for both of us. My pink hair and perky voice were probably bringing down your street cred, anyway.
Love,
AD
