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I love it when the music fills the room. It generates this utterly uncompromising, ultimately uniting euphoric haze. A kind of mist enveloping the physical. A wild web of invisible strings tying together the emotional. Utter insanity. Complete isolation.
The music speaks for itself.
Once my bones and hips have tinkered with the bass, my imagination with the melody, my ears with the little clicks and glitches and the way that everything overlaps... once all of that happens, the sound becomes mine, and mine only.
As united as we are in the euphoria of it all, we are divided by the truth that we haven't heard it the same.
That, I think, is the beauty of music, and the beauty of art in general: On the surface, it is presented to everyone equally, in the same way. A painting looks the same, its shapes and colors don't physically change. The notes of a melody, and the rhythm it follows, don't waver from one person to the next.
The way we ingest art, however, completely colors the way we experience it. It's a massive collective project of understanding something with our bodies, being isolated with our senses, and simultaneously feeding off of the energies of those around us, to create this utterly unexplainable experience. To say I love it is an understatement.