It’s been a long, cold and well, shitty winter here in Kansas City. The worst we have seen in our history…truly.  To be honest, not much has motivated me in the past weeks and I have been missing San Diego like crazy. I have felt unconscious cynicism and banal routine freeze me in. As dramatic as it sounds, leave it to music to thaw me.

Recently, I was watching a performance of Joe Cocker from his 1970 tour, Mad Dogs & Englishmen. Off stage he was polite and shy and talked with fans and groupies. On stage he was a different animal, sweat drenched, with jittery and jerky movements, that almost looked like convulsions, yet somehow perfectly emulated every note that was played and mirrored each swell of music. His voice was like a pepper grinder, spewing coarse grits of flavor in all directions, and every time he sang the words “delta lady” he literally stuck out his tongue like a ravaged dog. I could watch that forever.  I could watch that forever, because yes, I happen to like the sound of Joe Cocker, but also because watching someone in an unbridled state of expression like that is intoxicating. I wished I could have been there in the audience, and have been exposed to him first person. Yet, even on a cold, quiet Sunday night, in the suburbs of Kansas City in the year 2010, I was bombarded with the power of expression through music.

Have you ever had a moment where you truly see someone at his or her best (or worst for that matter)? Have you ever seen someone being who they really are, being what they really are, without even thinking? Have you seen someone doing what they do, because they just have to? Have you ever seen them performing and behaving in a certain way because there literally is no other way for them to convey themselves? I think I have caught glimpses of this, and it is often by way of music. It is incredible, fascinating and always powerful. This is hard, because I am attempting to give words to moments that cannot really be explained, only experienced. I suppose I am struck by the vulnerable and brave act of self-exposure and what a pure motion that is. I am also struck by how that motion of expression transfers, and how it transfers to me, and what it does to me, in whatever ever way it needs to. I could experience a form of musical expression as an audience member, collectively in a group, or as a listener, or as someone downloading Mp3s in front of her computer.

I suppose, to sum it up, I am just grateful. I am grateful that music exists and that it has the capacity to make me feel. I am grateful that human beings, past and present can sometimes create something laud worthy and expose something raw and pure from within. I know all of this seems somewhat idealistic, but it’s simply the way it makes me feel.

I’m ready for Spring. Are you?