Hello, friend.
How are you this week? What are you listening to? What are you dreaming about?
Can you believe this is my 100th letter to you? I’m struggling to process it myself. I never truly imagined we would make it this far.
Have I told you that I almost exclusively write these letters between 5 AM and 9 AM on Friday mornings? Every week, I’m up before the sun, eyes drooping from lost sleep, headphones on, recalling the listens of the week, diving through the digital crates, scouring my inbox for submissions, and—most crucially for my own sake—auditing my mind for whatever words dare to arrive.
This is a music newsletter. Sure. But you and I both know that this is primarily an open notebook, a shared dream journal, a diegetic diary written in this world that we have created—you and I—through our shared experiences of writing, reading, and mutual listening.
After 100 of these Friday morning free-writes, I believe in the power of art more sincerely than ever. I believe in therapy via expression (some folks chat with someone on a chaise—I write to you). I believe in the necessity of practice, ritual, habit.
I know how it can sound when someone declares that they care not for the person on the other end of the wire—”it is the act of creation alone that matters.” To some degree, I agree. I would have started writing these letters even if they were never delivered to the eyes of a reader.
I deeply doubt I would have written 100 of them, though.
As each week passes, I am realizing, increasingly, the point of all this. The writing. The listening. The living.
Of course, I would never claim to know the answers to any of the big questions. That is not the point. Asking questions is the point.
I will be capable of asking questions of myself until the day I draw my last breath. I can think and wonder at the world. I can observe and record my findings. All of that means very little without the validation of another.
Are you seeing this too?
We seem to be living in an age where relying on the validation of others is both sneeringly discouraged and desperately desired. Maybe that has always been the case?
There’s an inclination to walk your own path, to be different, and to not care what anyone thinks. Just be you, damn the rest.
Despite this, it feels nearly impossible not to reach out through the dark veil—to post, to publish, to preen ourselves daily in preparation for public presentation. Maybe that’s a combination of capitalism and anxiety, or maybe that’s just human nature. Are we so damned as to eternally yearn for a tribe?
In scientific pursuits, validation is required. A scientist asks a question, hypothesizes an answer, and then tests their hypothesis rigorously in an attempt to prove it true. The label of truth cannot be applied, however, until other scientists validate their work through their own tests and lenses of understanding.
And what is science but the continuous search for understanding in a life of constant mystery? That sounds quite like art to me.
This is the point. We’re in this together, this life of constant mystery in which aimlessness abounds. Living is very much like the games we played as children. We knew very little, so we filled in the gaps with whatever made sense to us at the time, or what felt fun and exciting. This was part of how we actually learned things. When we played those games of make-believe with our friends, we imagined what was real together, allowing each other’s additions into our shared worlds, whether through kind acceptance, mutual agreement, or fiery debate.
Real life as an adult feels just as made up, doesn’t it?
It does and it is, I think.
For what else would we be doing but making it up as we go along? We are creative creatures, telling stories by nature in our search for understanding, unpacking whatever meaning we can glean from the little answers we agree to be (at least somewhat) true.
It can appear overwhelming, the questioning path. It’s an uncertain road with many forks, bumps, and unintelligible signs. It requires a vulnerability we didn’t have as children, admitting our guesses and accepting whatever judgment may be handed down.
Still, I am ready to walk this path. I just hope I never have to walk it alone for long. Because making it all up feels a whole lot better when your friend is there, playing along with you.
Hello again, friend. I hope you enjoyed the reflection—and I also hope you take this as some semblance of validation for whatever answers you’ve been coming up with lately. Let’s walk the questioning path together.
We might as well listen to some great music along the way, too. Here are some recommendations for you (sans words today).
Happy listening.
P.S. My Melted Mix from July is now available for everyone to listen—it’s a mashup of 2 dance songs I absolutely love. Hope you enjoy it!
Firewood, Sunday is for Us by Buhduzit (album / experimental electronic, glitch) [Independent]
On Crystal Shores (LSII) by Alice AD (album / drone, noise) [Independent]
Blended by Joachim Spieth (album / drone, minimalist) [Affin]
Lost Weekend by Phoebe Bridgers (album / indie pop) [Dead Oceans]
Alien Metal by King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard (album / electronic) [P(doom)]
Lost In Another World by James Ellis Ford (album / indie pop) [Domino Recording Co.]
Comes In Waves by Carly Simon (album / pop) [Iris]
Ritual by Icona Pop (album / dance) [Ultra Records, LLC]
Music List Reminders: Bandcamp links provided first when available—if an album is not on Bandcamp, then YouTube or other preview links are provided. List format: Title by Artist (release type / approximate genre or subgenres) [Label].
That’s all for this week’s issue. Thank you for reading. Until next time.
Your friend,
Melted Form
Read the previous issue of The Living Music List:
Listen to the latest Melted Mix:
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