The Michigan Daily - Weekend etc. - Thursday, November i, 19931-5
Instinctive travels and the paths and roads of rhythm

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my fimenu asKe me me oer day
what my religion was. I said, "Reli-
gion? Aww... I don't know, really. I
guess you could say that music is
kinda like my religion."
"Like the Dead?" he says.
"No... noteven closetotheDead."

ballistic. No matter what, though,
there's always that rhythm to compel
me; that's what keeps me going.
It's like a cognition of sorts. Like
fusion, hip hop or jazz. It can seem
wild and chaotic like the screech of a
heated Public Enemy track. Yet still
through all the lyrical madness and
mayhem you can find Chuck D's
gravely voice ... beckoning you in
from the storm. It's just like that with
your inner music: if you are attentive,
you can always find order in it.
Some people use their religion to
structure their lives, to impose order
on what they can't control. But I look
at life and find a bit of order in each
thing. It's a small revelation. Some-
times it's apparent, other times you
have to work at it. But truth is always
there. The truth is in your rhythm and
the rhythm never lies to you.
But sadly some people are miss-
ing out on their own rhythm. They
seem strangely out of touch with it.
You can only get so lost in the daily,
monotonous rush of life. There comes
a point where you get it or you just
don't. Oh and you can tell who has it,
too. Their rhythm is in their moves,
their personality, the way they inter-
act with people and situations. Think
about it, Look around you. What are
these people feeling? What is it that
they radiate? Check out the cat next to
you. If you could hearhis music, what



would it be? Or what about hers? It
could be in their stride, even in their
destination. They could hold it tight
to their form like a security blanket or
flail it about like a flag. But listening
is the key. You have got to listen
close. Real close sometimes.
Now everyone's a slave to the
typical patterns and habits. But what
do you see when you take the long
way to class? Or if you smile at some-
one you don't know? When you no-
tice small things that you didn't see
before? Your music seems to skip a
beat. It says, "I've got the pulse and
I'm alive. I have the power to go
where I want, when I want, how I
want. You feel that life energy. That
life energy envelopes you, wraps it-
self around you, it empowers you.
And you understand that it's you who


controls your soundtrack and your
journey. Now ... you can have your
Neil Diamonds or your Neil Youngs
along for the trip. Personally, a fat
Tribe Called Quest vibe is the ticket
for today's lark. Or maybe the mad
faces of Onyx will suitably blow a
mundane mind frame to smithereens
in seconds. Or even the silky flows
that characterize Kaboon and Mr.
Jibbs as they make their homes in
some delicious groove. But I think
you get the point. It's your choice.
Every day I see people scurrying
from place to place, as if looking for
comfort in their destination. Instead
of enjoying the feel of the stroll they
are obsessed with the ends. Are these
people afraid of the world? Are they
trying to live in this world, with this
world or are they merely trying to


survive in it, blinders and all strapped
curiously to their sweaty little fore-
heads? Can they hear their own music
or do they need the elevator music to
tell them what floor to get off at?
Have a nice ride. You'll find me
taking the stairs. I mean, how else am
I going to feel myself pound out each
individual stair? How else would I be
able to look back and see where I've
been, and, consequently, where I
have to go? Again, it's the music that
does it. It can move in such a way that
can keep you separate from the herd

but not too fast so that everything
worth seeing, feeling and learning
doesn't become so much fodder for
simple input. Fodder that is abruptly
forgotten. You can find it in knowl-
edge, in people you meet, on a turn-
table, in blue funk that speaks vol-
umes from your trunk or just in your
head. So check for faulty wiring, or
badlining around your speakers. Make
sure the equalizers kick just the right
amount of comfort. Turn your vol-
ume way up if and if you can't hear it
at first, keep trying. It's always there.

i w

'vas my inner music. If I'm a believer
in anything, it's music. It's my com-
pulsion, my passion if you will. I'm
kind of lucky because it follows me
around, like a friend. And since it's
complete with the best sound system
intelligence can buy, this kid practi-
cally walks in stereo. This mental
surround sound is my personal
soundtrack. Or perhaps it's much
closer to an aura. Better yet, let's call
thememusic. But check this out. On
ose days when I'm down and blue
the volume cranks with the intensity
of a perpetual 808. On others I am
simply so bugged out my beats just go

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