‘Arbiters of Mood’ [ARTICLE]- Published October 2013 BRISTOL LIVE

“I never loved you!” she bellows as the door slams behind her. 

The pages of incriminating correspondence lay torn into shreds, along with his heart.
As he longingly gazes through the dusty window he focusses on his lost love as she walks into the arms of her new beau.

In the distance the gramophone plays ‘Agadoo’ by Black Lace.

Mood and music are bedfellows whether consensual or not. 

The pathetic fallacy of music is intrinsic and everyone craves those perfect soundtrack moments to life, whether it be the beauty of running toward your star crossed lover from the other side of a beach or staring wistfully through a rain peppered window lamenting the loss of a family pet, there is a soundtrack that is appropriate and one that feels out of place. 

Not everyone has a perpetual OST running through their heads mind, that’s a curse that only befalls a select few of us, but everyone finds solace in music that matches their mental state. It’s much easier to be on level with someone singing of heartache that mirrors your own troubles than some nubile tween shrieking about improbable promiscuity and unlikely abuse of substances that they read about in their mums copy of Woman’s Weekly.

A problem shared is a problem halved and all that, so it stands to reason that you’d want to spend time with someone equally as miserable as you, especially a musician. 

At first glance it seems strange that one would purposefully do something to enflame an already miserable disposition, but imagine listening to Lesley Gore’s saccharin classic ‘Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows’ after a visit to the oncology department, or celebrating your promotion by drawing the blackout curtains and listening to Radiohead in a damp, candlelit attic. 

There are, of course, ways to tip the scale in your favour. 

For all it’s wonder, the human body is remarkably gullible. There are many magical substances that trick your body into giving more than your RDA of happiness. 

This little workaround has a profound effect on the enjoyment of music, as anyone who broadened their horizons as a youth will know.

The heightened sense of empathy and understanding that comes from the abuse of particular narcotics not only affects your musical experience but the music itself. 

MDMA’s tendency to incite mutual rapture was most definitely not overlooked by the architects of the acid house scene that ruled the 90’s. 

It doesn’t take long for public demand to shape the scene. People wanting music to heighten a sense of euphoria will eventually lead to more and more tunes becoming more and more euphoric. It’s economics 101.

That’s not to say there’s some sort of equilibrium where mood and music is concerned, just a correlation. It’s just further proof of how innate both are within each other.  

The blues wouldn’t be the blues without feeling blue, and happy hardcore would be even less credible if it weren’t so sickeningly chipper.

If this is something we’re aware of as listeners it should be glaringly obvious to those in the business of creating music.

If an artist is particularly depressed or troubled (like any true artist should be) it would stand to reason that their creative output would reflect that poise, the same if they are vapid and transparent. It is that very transference of mood that turns a piece of music into a piece of art. 

We, as a listener, are in a unique position. We don’t have to entertain a musicians misery if we don’t feel the need to, we can just switch off when they get a bit whiny, preachy, dopey or sneezy. We are the arbiters of mood.

At least that’s what we’re led to believe anyway. Music is a remarkably powerful thing and  rather adept at altering moods without permission. The somber music that helped you through those dark times is now heavily loaded with emotion and it will most definitely remind you of that the next time you visit. Equally, the upbeat soundtrack to your jubilant days now has the ability to give you a dopamine enema at a moments notice.

When people talk about their favourite album it isn’t because they’re consistently blown away by the production value or the lyrical elegance, it’s because the elegant lyrics and deft production conjour memories, fond or otherwise.

It’s because that music’s tone was so in sync with your own at the time of your first encounter that such a strong relationship was formed. 

Now you have the ability to be transported back to that moment and relive the feelings once again. It’s this relationship that makes you able to create your own tone and it’s this relationship that is able to make ‘Agadoo’ seem like the saddest song in the world.