Sing Along Forever

I was driving to Dimondale (home) from Kalamazoo (school) the other day, playing my music too loud and singing my little heart out, when it hit me. "This is the answer to everybody's problems."

When I'm in my car alone, I am probably the most free spirited person alive. People pass by me on the highway while I am trying to match Chris Connely's tenor stylings on "Through Being Cool," and I know they are staring, wondering, and probably laughing hysterically at how hard I am actually singing to myself. But I keep right on doing it. Windows down in stopped traffic, on-ramps, off-ramps, parking lots, or fast food drive thrus, its all the same to me. It makes me happy.

There's probably nothing that, in the moment, makes me feel more at ease, or free and serene, than singing. And now that I can actually hit notes and am comfortable with my voice, it makes it that much more enjoyable.

So, the whole "answer to everyone's problems" thing, Jon, just what the hell were you talking about? Well, its simple really, for two big reasons. One, singing is a freeing experience. You are never more yourself than when you are singing your ass off. You are never more vulnerable, more oblivious to your surroundings, or more in touch with your soul. If we could all take that feeling, or concept and apply it to how we interact with others on a daily basis, the world would be a great place: caring, honest, humble.

Next, think about the last concert you've been to. Thousands of people all coming for a very similar reason. I go to a lot of punk rock shows and the crowds are pretty wild, but there is such a sense of community and centralized purpose at these shows. When one of the anthemic, hit songs spews from the stage and the vast majority of the crowd is singing every word, almost so loud that you can't hear the actual version of the song, it's a pretty enlightening experience. It's almost as if everyone in the audience is in his or her car, by themselves, belting out the same song, at the same time.

No matter how many times a sweaty kid with a mohawk elbows me in the head, or the kid who's a little too old and heavy to crowd surf needs to be assisted in his journey to the guard rail, I never become angry or out of touch with myself and the music, a tandem of dynamic proportions.

So please, keep singing. Sure, you may be getting laughed by the guy in the Chevy two ton pick up at the moment, but you can't bet your sweet ass when Toby Keith comes on the radio in ten minutes he'll be howling at the moon in no time, looking around to see if he's being watched.

Now, who's singing with me?