Jazz Was the Line in the Sand

Picture 183 people seated around a monitor or two. Although it’s of no consequence, the only tv in the room is a 42″ Sony flatscreen tv, the other monitors are 27″ computer monitors. Most of the crowd sits with rapt attention– on the screen a man is giving a eulogy, he’s recounting the brilliant life led by the recently deceased. Some have tears in their eyes, others just stare listlessly at the screen. After the man finishes speaking, to further commemorate the life of the deceased, one of his favorite artists is asked to perform a song or two. The artist is the 9-time Grammy award-winning  Norah Jones. On screen, Norah Jones walks up onto the stage, seats herself at a beautiful grand piano, and begins to create music. As her fingers dance along the ivory keys, melodic rifts and sweet rhythms float out over the crowd, calming them. Oddly, the air inside of the small room watching the event is markedly different. The music had drawn a line in the sand, or more accurately had split the 183-person group into two distinct categories. Those in group one were relaxed, calm, and at home listening to the jazz. The other group, group two, contained people who became increasingly restless, seemingly agitated, and nervous. Phones started appearing in hands, those in group two began to find a million things to do besides sit and listen to the performance.

-I think that jazz is an acquired taste. It’s acquired (like most things) by exposure, but also by the work one does to themselves prior to listening to it. It is a style of music uniquely suited to those who are able to reflect. The introspective introvert will find jazz soothing because he is at home inside of himself. The one who enjoys mediation and silence will relax as he listens to jazz play, because he finds nothing wrong with pausing, being still, and listening. Those who refuse to look deep within themselves, those who insist on constantly finding things to distract themselves from the hard work of introspection will find jazz irritating and (most likely) avoid it all together. They’re lovers of distraction, people who are quick to dismiss all jazz, all opera, all classical music as “not their thing.” These are the people who couldn’t listen to Norah Jones in that room on that day. I feel sorry for them, they’ve set themselves up for a life lacking depth, lacking the self-knowledge that comes from deep introspection. They’ve pushed away one of the few beauties this difficult life has to offer, the beauty of nosce te ipsum. 

Watch a live performance of Norah Jones’ “Don’t Know Why.”