Music has always been the biggest emotional force in my life. As an incredibly affected person, it picks me up when I'm down and throws me into the world, puts me in touch with everything happening around me, soundtracks every aspiration that enters my head, and validates the feelings that come and go. That being said, stumbling across an album, an artist, or a song that genuinely moves me and inspires me down to the core-- a feeling apart from just liking something-- is still an uncommon affair. It happened with Tom Waits, Bruce Springsteen, Jackson Browne, and the Counting Crows among others, but that's still relatively sparse for someone who spends multiple hours a day singing along to something new, old, or a long-time favorite.
With that said, a few months ago I caught wind of Brian Fallon, frontman of The Gaslight Anthem, and his debut solo endeavor Painkillers. I should preface this by saying I wasn't a Gaslight fan at the time. I knew the name but couldn't attach any melodies to it. Needless to say, Painkillers opened that door and sent me spiraling into something bigger than myself.
Brian Fallon made an album that feels infinitely resonant, stone-cold, and classic. Striking chords with old-school Americana, pummeling New Jersey rock 'n' roll perpetuated by Springsteen himself, and an emotional undercurrent that feels just as immediate as it does nostalgic, Painkillers felt-- and still feels-- like something written for me; something I can carry in front of me like a torch.
"A Wonderful Life" narrates every youthful desire for happiness, success, and adventure that are tossed around my head on a daily basis. "Steve McQueen" makes my heart heavy for every dream I've wanted to disappear into. "Honey Magnolia" gives all my sentimental, romantic yearnings a melody to adhere to. "Open All Night" makes me nostalgic for a life I've never lived; a world I've never seen. I could go on about each and every song until I completely fade into self-indulgence, but that doesn't come close to the point here.
Painkillers makes every cell in my body come to life in a flurry of nostalgia and desire for something wonderful. Seeing Fallon play these songs live back in July only furthered this connection. Needless to say, this album didn't save my life or dramatically change the course of it; it simply makes me feel alive, and inspires me as a person as well as a musician. To be moved so deeply by music is immensely valuable in itself, but it also has something more important to say about the connection we have to art as a whole.
The feeling of a song making your life feel bigger and brighter is one of the sweetest sensations out there. I'm not alone when I say that sometimes, I feel like a song was written for me; like it was put on paper as an extension of myself and sent my way so I can uncover more and more details about what's underneath my skin. This is why music remains the biggest force in my life: it allows me to figure myself out and strive for something more simultaneously.
Ultimately, this is where two groups of music fans are formed. One of these demographics is like me, pursuing music on a basis of emotion and personal connection. The other, however, seems to see music as a form of recreation. This group sees it as a way to let loose and have a good time. It's not to say those have never been motives for me, but my relationship with the music I love has never been completely about letting loose. Sometimes it's about feeling something you don't want to feel, digging deep enough into yourself and finding something that sends your head spinning in the worst of ways.
I completely understand music purely as a tool of recreation. However, I would encourage anyone who uses it for this alone to look a little further into the songs they love and to try and find some emotional fastening in them. The immensity and sharpness of a well-written song shouldn't be wasted on just recreation, and if you open up your chest a little more than usual, it can be twisted into a tool of poignant self-discovery and inspiration. I let that happen with Painkillers, and I took a sentimental blow I never could have anticipated.
