The above link is the opening scene from a personal favorite of my own-and purportedly Wally as well. "High Fidelity" is a film about music, a man, and the insides of his noisy mind.
The music and apparent misery have become especially noted with the astronomical success of the hit single "Somebody That I Used to Know." So ubiquitous have the imagery and sounds become that they have ostensibly crept into even the most vague references. The term "cultural icon" has been thrown towards the song and subsequent clip on multiple instances. One of my fan-colleagues located a particular piece that attributes the stylings of a recent Aussie mental health awareness campaign to the wildly popular music video:
http://www.thevine.com.au/life/art/did-gotye-inspire-a-mental-illness-campaign
Although at first glance the images of the campaign are markedly similar, they seem less like a sharp facsimile and more like a slight nod to Oz's recent "icon," at the most.
This notion of a connection between emotional and mental states and music is nothing novel. The above Youtube clip hails from the film adaptation of a novel of the same title by the brilliant Nick Hornby. The tale of Rob is a simple recounting of the inner turmoil of a thirty-something indy record shop owner whose entire self concept is founded upon Pretenders singles.
There's a unique conduit that exists between music and the mind, whether it be the cogitations of the creator or the neural feedbacks of the listener. It's no mystery that many therapeutic modalities integrate both the consumption and production of music as a means to restoring or maintaining well-being. But what came first, the music or the mentality? Are the messages we intake from our beloved artists imbuing us with some refractory emotional state that then becomes enslaving. As Wally notes himself in the song, "You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness."
So is it therapeutic to immerse ourselves in music that registers deep misery when we ourselves are in the midst of some emotionally rocking experience of sadness? Does listening to angry death metal give an outlet for pent-up rage? Can a song that is joyful and sunny lift us from apathy or aching?
From my perspective-that of a provider of mental health care, it is true that the most effective and enduring healing often comes from a sense of connection. That connection may to be someone or something, or both. In any case, a feeling that one is not isolated in their challenges is powerfully transcendent, and capable of breaching the highest barriers.
Music provides a deep, durable and robust sense of connection. Be it lyric or melody or rhythmn or the confluence of all variables, music speaks to the most profound of human emotions. The attachments that are forged by the musician, their music and the minds that find it comforting are genuine and complex. It's no wonder that when a musician (like our own Mr. De Backer) produces something that breaks through the disjointed noise we all encounter day-by-pedestrian-day, that we find ourselves dedicated to it, sometimes in a seemingly effortless fashion. With music that speaks to our need for connection, we find both lofty healing and high fidelity.
~~c. P 2012
*Special thanks to Wall-nuts co-founder Cris for finding the above linked article and suggesting this exploration
**Apologies for the lack of embedding of the video-the embed code was too problematic.
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