1:25 am

It’s hot in here. The fireplace is squeezing real flames out of fake wood and too many people are using laptop computers, each blowing their heat into the coffee shop. The combination of warmth and music has slowly made me slip into a comfortable stupor. A few cars driving by outside seem remote and part of another world.

As I sit in coffee shops and at terraces listening to music, day after day, the city is getting under my skin and I slowly soak in the very essence of life in Vancouver: simplicity.

And music is always present. There is no doubt in my mind that music is a great conductor of emotions and insight. Taking for granted that everything in the universe is vibration, then music must at times find a way to superimpose itself on our own personal vibration patterns, and that of the world around us; it must tune itself to the environment and like if cued by the expert hand of a celestial DJ, synch itself perfectly to an instant of the bigger picture. Then wonderful things happen.

I suddenly see the world more cleanly, I understand it to a deeper level. The fog of routine and intolerance is lifted. I notice details normally invisible to my eyes. I feel things more intensely, my emotions suddenly revived like a faded photograph at the touch of a photoshop pro. Neglected neurons are firing up, new connections established. I feel alive and charged up, like a live wire waiting to spark. And most of all, it all makes sense now.

I don’t think it matters what kind of music one likes, it’s the result that matters. Different kinds of music seem, however, to generate different patterns. So one would be well advised to carefully choose the medium’s rhythm according to their needs.

As for me, well,

I find that Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmuzik, Vivaldi’s 4 Seasons, Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture and Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliett are only suited for museum visits and exploring European cities, where they are great. [Edited in October 2007 – What a stupid thing to say, they are great all the time. I guess I was trying to be funny. Duh!]

On the other end of the scale, Rammstein does wonders for workouts, trail runs and road trips.

The Sisters of Mercy are fantastic any time, so is Pink Floyd.

Web or graphic design? Coldplay, Keane and Indochine.

Walking around the city goes well with goth rock like Nightwish and Within Temptation.

When hunting for picture opportunities, something very theatrical such as Jean-Michel Jarre or the Red Army Choir gets me in a creative mood.

Before going to sleep, Sarah McLachlan, Zazie or Farmer relax and soothe me.

Reggae and the likes are a must to fully appreciate the vibes of tropical sandy beaches and palm trees, especially Marley, Lavilliers, Tosh, Toure Kunda and Alpha Blondy.

Jazz and blues, as well as flamenco, are perfect for coffee shops where they enhance the smells, the tastes and the numbing warmth.

Some vital statistics now,

  • There are 1481 songs in my playlist. That’s 3 more than I remembered.
  • 786 of them are rated 4 or 5 stars. It means I like’em a lot.
  • 6 song titles start with a z. They come last.
  • There are no z’s in the word music.
  • One song is longer than 40 mins. It’s long and boring.
  • I listen to music an average of 323.75 days a year.
  • I wish I was listening to music at least 14.7 more times a year.
  • I operate the Windows Media Player v.10 out of laziness and Winamp because I’ve got to have all the toys.
  • I have only broken one of my fingers. Once.
  • I own an old MP3 compatible CD player (thanks Nance) and a newer small Philips flash memory player which does a great job but eats batteries like I eat saucisson.
  • I never wear those when biking but always when running, and sometimes when grocery shopping. But Rammstein has been known to cause me to through food into my cart with excessive enthusiasm.
  • My earphones don’t piss off half of the bus passengers and they sound great, but they fall all the time and tickle a bit.
  • Vancouver rocks.
  • I don’t sing along unless it’s already raining.
  • I’ve never listened to music while paragliding. It’s the only time my own vibrations are so in tune with the world that they couldn’t possibly be enhanced.
  • I can spell music backwards. cisum.
  • Pavarotti IS a tenor, Paganini WAS a composer. (The Hunt for Red October)
  • I am able to play Frère Jacques on the piano with two fingers. But then again, that’s also the way I type, and call elevators.
  • Right, said Vince,
  • I’m, too sexy for this blog. ;-)