ILLUSTRATION BY LOUISA BERTMAN
I can’t sing.
My out-of-tune bleating, likely considered a form of cruel and unusual punishment under the Geneva convention, is nevertheless something I have quite a bit of fun with. Singing and dancing when we think no one’s around is, surely, one of those simple experiences that unites us all. Music catches; it was viral before we had a word for such things, in part because it so often gives lyrical form and melodious content to our emotions. Hearing what your emotions sound like can be cathartic.
I sing sad songs when I’m depressed, with much the same feeling as I might brood before the climax of a Wagnerian opera; you’re there, deep in that moment, riding the music as you give voice to something stirring inside you.