Engagement with music on an emotional level is dying out, and we will all reap the consequences.
By Jason Bauer, Special to The Times
Jason Bauer
The first time I heard Six Years Wiser by Harrison Boe, the hair on the back of my neck stood straighter than the guards at Buckingham Palace. I played it dozens of times consecutively until I could sing every word backwards in my sleep. I didn’t just want to hear Boe’s tender voice, I wanted to live within his art and understand the details of every line.
This act of engaging with and communicating through music transcends modern society by centuries, with the first instruments dating back over 40,000 years. However, this primal desire has been over-saturated and sanitized in the modern era, worn down to empty noise. Long gone are the days of Blind Willie Johnson’s slide guitar and ghostly voice being enough to make the masses cry or Marvin Gaye’s poetry sparking movements. I often find myself with friends or peers who never leave home without an Airpod in their ear, and yet have never actually listened to a word of their favorite song. The desire to actively engage with music has, in large part, given way to passive consumption, and it is so wildly disappointing.
The era of incredible, meaningful music is far from behind us. Jesse Welles seemingly writes another masterpiece of political commentary daily, Hozier continues to produce soulful and incredibly nuanced rebellious work inspired by his religious upbringing, and indie bands like the Backseat Lovers, Mt. Joy, Arcy Drive, and Caamp keep churning out unique explorations of youth and love. If anything there are more incredibly talented artists today than ever before, but that is also where the issue of insincere engagement arises.
The ability to independently release music on social media has made it more accessible than ever. Although a clear positive, providing more autonomy to musicians and lowering the threshold to share art with the world, it has saturated the market with so many choices that listeners often suffer from decision paralysis. Much like trying to find the perfect Netflix movie, finding an artist you love has become increasingly difficult. And much like on Netflix, that usually means throwing whatever on in the background while you half pay attention on your phone. And this epidemic of insincere engagement is only continuing to rise as more and more people pick up a dusty guitar in their basement and open Instagram.
To combat this, I personally began pursuing first-hand accounts on the music that impacts me deeply. I wanted to speak to the artists who created my favorite songs and albums, deepening my connection with their art, and sharing their stories with anyone willing to learn more. My hope was, and still is, to encourage others to engage with the music they have found and enjoyed through the sea of choices. I created an Instagram account of my own as well as a Substack that I called Record Store Sundays. I used it to reach out to several Indie favorites of mine, particularly Max Wayland from Dolphins on Acid, Nick Mateyunas from Arcy Drive, and of course, Harrison Boe. All three graciously sat down with me for a thirty-minute interview.
Although the three have wildly different personalities and genres, with Arcy Drive and Dolphins on Acid leaning towards Indie Rock and Boe staying within the Indie Folk space, they shared one thing in common, a deep and burning passion for their work. All three wore their hearts on their sleeve, expressing how much of themselves they allow to seep into their art. Boe put it beautifully, saying he “bleeds all over the page” when a song idea strikes him.
To me, Boe’s lyrics cut so much deeper after seeing the look in his eyes when he spoke about his wife, his family, and his personal experiences living in Nebraska. His music was no longer just another catchy tune I found on social media, it was an expression of who he is as a man, spoken with grace, poise, and originality.
I will concede that there is nothing inherently wrong with listening to music casually or songs trending on social media. In fact without it artists, especially independent ones like Boe, Arcy Drive, and Dolphins on Acid, would greatly suffer from the lost exposure and revenue. However, failing to ever connect with a truly earnest and beautiful piece of music is like reading only every other page of a Shakespeare play, or admiring a painting with one eye closed: it prevents you from truly appreciating the work of art in front of you.
As a member of Gen-Z and frequent social media user, I know it is an unwinnable battle to demand constant vigilant attention to the nuances of every song we hear. However, if artists are willing to follow the millenia old tradition of “bleeding onto a page,” devoting themselves to novel expressions of their dreams and desires, the least we can do is try to understand the art that makes us feel something deeply.
Jason Bauer is a senior at Downingtown West High School
