Some songs are made exclusively for full-volume blasts.
I’m talking legit speakers, that one friend you know who dropped hundreds on a set, your scratchy 2002 GMC Yukon’s bass-heavy dial turned up to 43 (or whatever its max is, you can’t remember and it’s constantly changing), your shitty dollar store speaker that does the job on camping trips and study abroad weekends only, the water-proof speakers hidden in every nook and cranny of that one friend’s “summer boat,” the one that seems to be only about an hour and a tan line away no matter where you go, and sometimes, on the most scrappy of days, it’s just 16 clicks up, yes I counted, on your iPhone 8 or 10 (you can never remember, I’ll check the settings, but you know it’s not a 13 with the sumptuous triple camera and lavender shell), 16 clicks up doesn’t necessarily do the trick, but the music still enters a cavity in your teeth, seeping through like sweet generic-brand candy found in your couch cushion on a lazy day. Because you always eat it, just to taste it, just to try it. Who doesn’t try it? These songs are designed for full blast, whether it’s per your convenience or not, and even if you blew your left eardrum out last night at a club you insisted you wouldn’t attend, because who pays 40 bucks just to hide in the dark with strangers, this song tells a different story. She’s stubborn, she’s assiduous, but most notably, she reminds you life is more than routine and there’s still room for magic. Maybe.
I refuse to live a mediocre life, I refuse to listen to mediocre songs. My playlist is ever-changing yet also evergreen and never really defined, no matter how many quippy Spotify titles I attempt to conjure up.
Because what extraordinary movie have you ever seen with a mediocre soundtrack? Music is just another tool at the director’s disposal to force the media-hungry consumers to feel something. Damn it! Feel, don’t just sit lazily, because at least when you spend 12 hours in bed on that next special, you can at least say it made you cry, question, reframe, re-evaluate, stir up with jealousy, miss your mom, miss your ex—something productive!
Be that song that requires full blast, no matter how shitty the speaker, how low-budget the film, how many red lights you hit that day. You’re in control of your volume, unless, of course, you get a noise complaint. And in that case, at least someone was listening.
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