I love happy music. I don’t know exactly why, even though I consider myself a relatively exact person, but generally I will derive the most enjoyment from any sort of music if it’s ostensibly happy. And I don’t necessarily mean in a major key. Lots of people write music in a major key. Kings of Leon do, for instance. But there’s something about it that just isn’t happy, to me. If I went through my entire music collection, I daresay the majority of the music that I think is happy lies in the prog category. Vocal harmonies, lush keyboards, guitar tones sweeter than a pound of shortbread, and a tightness on the drums one would expect from a session player. I think there’s something about this that just makes me love to be alive.

Often the idea of playing this music is what makes me happiest. Not that I’m uninterested in creating my own music, not at all, as anyone who knows me has been hearing about my Genesis project, just that in times in the past, sitting on a train with my headphones at 90% loudess, or driving up my favourite mountain in my car with the stereo blasting out the dulcet vibes of whatever particular prog I’m into at the moment, I have been moved to tears, or very close to, by say Moon Safari or Neal Morse, or even back in the day Dream Theater. Yes I’m a fucking wuss, however much I’d like to deny it, but I honestly find it easier to cry thinking about playing Sweet Elation to a crowd of elated motherfuckers than thinking about my dog dying.

So I think what I’m trying to say is that although sometimes I am in the mood for something not happy, such as Silhouettes, a phenomenal album, if I’m ever down and troubled, and need a helping hand, I will pull out some Lightning Strikes by Yes, a song I have been laughed at for due to its unabashed tackiness, and something about that will stir up something in me that the most well composed technical death metal could never hit. I suppose this little discussion has been pointless, but I’d like to hear anyone else’s thoughts on it. Thanks for your time, society.