Is Feeling Nostalgic a Bad Feeling?

On Saturday, as I was watching the Gamecocks whoop Kentucky, a commercial for ESPN's "Grantland.com" intrigued me. There were a few variations of the commercial, but each of them portrayed Grantland as mysterious, concealing its purpose. I took a few minutes to check out the website and was stopped short of solving the mystery because of Chuck Klosterman's article about "Nostalgia." The article discusses gaps in the popular "phenomenon" of music and emotion or in this case nostalgia, which makes it a great read because it challenges my passions! Anything that challenges, pushes the line, or plays the devil's advocate creates a space for me to think about new ideas on the topic of music and emotions and motivates me to prove, discuss, or show what is working.

There are many interesting points that Klosterman argues in his lengthy article, but I'll choose just one. In his last paragraph, Klosterman talks about "Connectivity." Klosterman suggests that people place a "false nostalgia" value on a specific song based on repeated exposure to a particular song. He says that people don't even have to like the song and are able to do this with any song. In a side note, he urges the reader to listen to a song they might not normally listen to over and over for six months and that at any point in the future, hearing that song will make the reader feel "incredible."

Klosterman says that, instead, people should place the value of a song based on fleeting moments that we share with many people. To paint a picture, below are Klosterman's exact words:
"It won't be a kid playing the same song 1,000 times in a row; it will be that kid remembering when he and 999 other people all played the same song once (and immediately discussed it on Twitter, or on whatever replaces Twitter). It will be a short, shared experience that seems vast enough to be justifiably memorable. And I don't know what that will feel like, and I don't know if it will be better or worse."

Unless I'm misinterpreting his meaning of "repeat," and I don't think I am, here are brief versions of my counterarguments, all of which I can provide a collection of detailed short stories to accompany, if anyone is interested:
"Forever and Ever, Amen" by Randy Travis - My Grandpop Picking Me and My Mom up in the Mornings.
"O-o-h Child" by the Five Fairsteps - The Death of a Friend
"With a Little Help From My Friends" by the Beatles - My Senior Prom Song
"I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues" by Elton John - My First Heartbreak
A ton between here and the time of my wedding song, which was "Crazy Love" by Van Morrison
"Birthday" by the Beatles - The Birth of My Daughter...and the list goes on.

One last point, is feeling nostalgic such a bad thing? I'm pretty sure I can name a few feelings that are worse.

Listening

When people find out that I play the piano, the first question is always "How did you learn?" Sometimes I wonder if they believe me when I tell them that I learned by listening.

The house on South Ave. was small, but perfect in many ways for my dad, my brother, and me. It was set on a steep hill and part of the living room was underground. It was cozy, especially after the summer when you could look out from the windows and see the leaves falling into the woods or the cold air freezing the creek. In the cramped dining room was a rectangular space, just right for the size of a piano and that's what we put there. My dad called the used piano his post-divorce gift. Most nights, after my brother and I went to bed, my dad would sit at the piano and play for hours. He was self-taught by listening to his father play. My dad loved to play Beethoven, Bob Seger, but, especially, Van Morrison. The dining room happened to be situated just below my bedroom and as I hung out my window to sneak a cigarette before going to sleep, I would listen to him play. The next morning, I would try to imitate the sounds and found it to be successful, Beethoven being the hardest or impossible, of course.

I found that listening to music has a habit of making me better at a lot of things. I have especially enjoyed listening to music to improve my writing. Using music to enhance my writing is not just saved for journal writing either. I listen to instrumental jazz, light classical, or sound-scape type music when writing long research papers or more specific lyrical songs when trying to write a specific story for a nonfiction piece. Writing is hard work and not a stream of consciousness that reveals itself through dreams or the depths of the subconscious. We are aware of what we want to say and though the idea for writing may begin from a dream or a burst of inspiration, the act of writing - pen to paper or finger to keyboard - is a cognitive process that is conscious, deliberate, time consuming, and sometimes tedious. I use music to alleviate my writing anxieties and create a space for fluent writing. By listening, I have discovered new styles of music that I never knew I would love!

I'd be interested to hear about your experiences with using music to help with your writing.

Where Do You Go?

Where does your mind travel when listening to music?

Does it take you on a journey of memories?

 - The smell of a loved one's tobacco pipe.

 - A vision of your childhood home.

 - The first taste of a lover's kiss.

 - The sound of waves crashing in the winter.

 - The sticky touch of cotton candy melting on your fingertips.

All it takes is the first few notes of a song and we're transported on a cognitive journey of memories and emotions that subside or vanish when that song is over. We might feel a lingering nostalgia in the moments following a tune and then we let that feeling go. We go back to folding laundry, running errands, or some other typical task. Life has a way of distracting us from reflecting on our intrinsic experiences, when, in fact, we should be clinging to those moments. Those moments when our memories or emotions are more transparent to us than in the space that surrounds them. 

I have created this space to start a conversation on experiences sparked by our universal love for music. I welcome you to answer this question in any creative, scientific or philosophical way you can: When the music is on, where do you go?