I believe it’s true that a band can change your life. Sure, they may have never met you and their songs are most certainly mass-produced to please radio stations and ticket-buying concertgoers, but I’d challenge anyone who says they’ve never encountered not even one song that resonates with them; one that helped them through a tough time or can be associated with a particularly defining life moment; one that exists as a little bit more than lyrics on paper set to a melody.
The night I came out of the closet I was listening to Marianas Trench. I was huddled in front of my computer, cross-legged, hair in a messy bun, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and too-short shorts and AOL Instant Messenger blaringly open on my screen. My roommate had left for the semester so I was all alone supposedly studying for the final I had the next morning when in reality I was sitting in the dark wishing I had something to eat other than Ramen. I had just discovered the band and was moved by their music – it had just the appropriate bit of pep alongside some beautiful lyrics and pretty awesome instrumental layers. I was chatting with my best guy friend about how much I liked the band and he sent me a ridiculously hot picture of Megan Fox on a motorcycle and suddenly something clicked. I’d always been a step above most girls on the “bro” scale, but I never thought anything of it when guys sent me hot chick pics and talked to me about their lady troubles. I honestly never even flinched, thinking every heterosexual teenage girl talked to their heterosexual teenage guy friends about that kind of stuff. I thought it was normal that I didn’t want to have sex with dudes, that I didn’t honestly care about how I looked when I went out with my boyfriend, that I typically stayed up late thinking about how hot that one girl was in that church that one time (but no, I’m not gay, that’s not gay, don’t be silly, self). I thought that no one else gave a shit about their heterosexual relationships, and suddenly, staring at that picture, “Masterpiece Theatre” quaintly playing in the background, I blurted out years’ worth of seriously-repressed thoughts in an instant message chat window to my unsuspecting friend.
Call it nostalgia or call it the power of music, but association is a very powerful force. I recall every single thing about that cold evening, December 21st, 2010, to be exact; everything from the emotions I felt to what I was wearing to what my room smelled like to the annoying sound of my neighbor’s snoring is deeply imprinted on my mind – and most likely will always be. And ever since, the three-part “Masterpiece Theatre” takes me on a journey each time I hear it. Even particular chord progressions evoke particular feelings and by the end, I feel both emotionally winded and utterly satisfied. The collection has about one hundred consistent plays logged on my music player, most of which were logged that evening and in the following weeks of coping/adjusting/excessive melodrama which ensued. Every day was a struggle, realizing that Megan Fox and that damn motorcycle had caused a lot more intense shit than I had initially anticipated. So I played the song and felt the feels and coped and grieved and smiled and laughed, and hoped for the day that everything would be okay. I breathed and moved forward with the help of the song that had been there in my greatest time of need.
Every time I couldn’t sleep: “I’ve got a new disease in me, I’ve got a friend that’s losing sleep, I take it hard, it’s hard to take, I’m wide awake.” Every time I struggled with discretion and acceptance of myself, and the acceptance of others: “I just can’t let it out, if this is just a part I portray, I don’t know how it got this way.” Every time I wanted to go back to the way things were before: “I will softly pull away in this broken beautiful mess I’ve made.” Every time I just felt all of the feels: “I will slowly fade, in this masterpiece I laid, I’ll burn out and slip away.” Every time I needed to just take a breath, I let the chord progressions resonate and the words sink in.
And looking back, three years later, out of the closet and happier than I have ever been, I saw Marianas Trench in concert and everything came full circle. I heard the lyrics and the chords and the harmonies and felt the force of everything I had experienced, and all the steps that I have taken to become the person I am today. If I were to ever have the blessing to meet the band whose brilliant music facilitated both my struggles and my recovery, I would simply have two words to say: thank you.