My Life’s Consonance

     In Neoschool, we were bussed to the Brightvale University, where we would witness a performance of the Pops Concert. Music wasn’t just an experience for my ears anymore; it also enraptured my sight, and all of my other senses—I could taste it; smell it; feel it. I just had to find my way up on that stage, playing with the band, singing with the chorus, anything, as long as it was musical.

     As soon as I was able to, I joined band, and chorus. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to handle notes, so I figured I’d start with percussion/drumming. Rhythm for me was innate; I could easily pass the stomp/clap audition. I feel it in my soul, the driving pulse forcing my body to move in time. There was no looking back—I was then, and forevermore, a musician.

     Since then, I’ve been in a plethora of concert bands, orchestras, pep bands, marching bands, fife & drum corps, choirs…you name it. To this day, I perform music. It’s almost impossible to describe how it makes me feel, but I will try.

     When I joined Brightvale University choir, I felt a comradery with like-minded Neopians. We all bonded over a common purpose: to make music. Even though we came from different backgrounds and were in different stations in life, none of that mattered once the conductor’s baton dropped. Seeing the conductor’s wide and welcoming smile, in fact, drove me to choose this particular choir. I witnessed the joy and enthusiasm emanating when he talks about the pieces we rehearse. “You’re all here because you love music, because you live and breathe it,” he says before each practice. “Now, let’s join together in song and create something spectacular.” Dr. Berkscannon is an inspiration for us all. His infectious enthusiasm pushes us to give him our best, to give it our all. It makes my heart happy to know that even after I graduate, I’ll always be welcome. His choir is one that spans generations, one that has students and alum, community members, and staff. It truly is the bond that connects BVU with the community.

     Dr. Berkscannon is well known for the music that he chooses. A rare combination of cultures, of lands, that help to show the diversity of Neopia. We have a Medieval choral arrangement from a Meridell cathedral, a jazz piece from Neopia central, a rock and roll song from Tyrannia, a pop song from Maraqua. Everything has its own flavour and feel. And when you come to one of our concerts, you can hear the whole world on stage. In a sense, though, you can. Our students represent all the worlds of Neopia and it’s a point of pride for the college. That, in and of itself, is what makes our choir so special.

     I’ve never stopped being nervous on stage, but I channel that nervousness into enthusiasm. Seeing the joy on the audience member’s faces as we work our magic is worth the toil of endlessly drilling the third page, second staff. Or that line on page four with the octave jump. Even if it’s not quite polished in the dress rehearsal, somehow for the performance we get an infusion of Opening Night Razzmatazz and always proceed to “knock ‘em dead”—not literally, of course. As the audience approaches us and shares with us kind words, we knew we have made an impact, and leave the venue with a jubilation that I imagine marathon runners might know. Our concerts draw a crowd, nearly a thousand happy faces each time we perform. They come for a show and we always deliver—or at least, I hope we do. Seeing their reactions, their joy, is enough for me.

     There are dichotomous states that often govern our lives: push and pull, yin and yang, order and disorder. Life never stands still, so you are constantly oscillating among these states. Two key ones for me are consonance and dissonance; pleasantness and harshness. When things are consonant, everything seems right with the world, and everything is in its place. Dissonance is just the opposite, with the harshness jumping out at you. This doesn’t mean that we should avoid dissonance at all costs; to the contrary, we need both in life to feel fulfilled. If life was constantly consonant, we could never grow ourselves or learn. Dissonance helps push us to find consonance, and in turn, learn to live with occasional dissonance.

     This is exactly the essence of music—within the noise you are hearing is the constant battle of consonance and dissonance. In this way, it mirrors life itself. Tension resolving to harmony. A “V chord” just begs to resolve to the “I chord”—this is something we can feel. Theory only serves to describe how people make and enjoy music; it doesn’t prescribe “correct” or “incorrect” music.

     As such, the best music is one that takes you on a journey you’ve never been on before. In life, we often crave novel experiences, and music often delivers these. Even when a lot of music begins to sound repetitive, there’s that one song that has a twist you never saw coming, and the excitement is back.

     Performing music is the most cathartic activity you can possibly engage in with other people. It’s downright spiritual. You are part of a most beautiful whole, creating something in the air that has meaning and purpose, that evokes emotion, that tells a story. When I perform, my soul is embedded in the music. I am not merely performing a mundane task like driving a car; I am doing my part to make life itself more consonant.

     For me, music is my consonance; it is what makes me whole—without it, I feel lost, and doldrums start to creep up on me. To me, it’s not about being the very best that ever was, or perfect technique—it’s all about that ethereal feeling that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.