Greeks like music in the form of mathematical artistic expression; According to Pythagoras, the sun, the moon and other planets are circling around the globe harmoniously, and the distance between the celestial bodies corresponds to the music intervals: it was the great music of the balls. In the Middle Ages, music was one of Quadrivium's art, arithmetic geometry and astronomy. ie it was part of the sciences. And even in the 17th century, the composer named Zarlino said, "Music deals with voice diaries." So until yesterday, this art was regarded as an element of the universe, which is a strict and primordial knowledge of life. But later, society, which is increasingly focusing on utilitarianism and technology, not science, has spread music (and all art in general) to a place that is more priceless, decorative and priceless until it creates an environment disturbance called "environmental music" in the lifts, in the waiting rooms or in the stores, and which presumably, according to various studies, reveals the provocation of certain psychological responses: getting you to buy and spend more to say or assure you in tense moments like a dentist even though a friend, writer Miguel-Anxo Murado often says that every time listening to those cheerful and stupid laurelists who voice the take-offs and landings of airplanes, for example, the hair is at a point because they show a certain danger.
For me, music is something essential, the same as reading. I do not know if I could live without both. However, there are individuals who, in my absolute respect and in disbelief, like this art. The most well-known is the great writer Vladimir Nabokov, one of my literary masters. In his beautiful autobiographical book, Habla, memoria proclaims: "Music, unfortunately, only affects me arbitrarily in succession with more or less annoying sounds". He continues to get tired of several sentences with his literal pedagogue, which means that all of mankind makes the mistake of permanently enjoying that annoying noise. Poor Nabokov: Perhaps his unfriendly nature came from this cruel shortcoming of this disadvantage. How not to love music if our entire existence is associated with the ultimate rhythm of blood pulsation.
I already say, I like it so much that when I listen to music, I can not do other things (except walking or driving) because it is too much focus on it. Of course I can not write. Writer Clara Sánchez told me that she worked before listening to her favorite. "But I stopped doing it because I realized that I thought I was writing exciting and cool pages so that when I played them the next day without a soundtrack, I thought they were really bad." What a wonderful and wise comment: music is like a drug, it's sticking to us and hypnosising us. It leads us to a better and worse direction in the parallel state of reality: it is a military music that arouses and pulls young generations with a smile on their lips; it is a romantic music that makes you believe you are in love with serious consequences; or it is a melancholic music that takes you under the bed and starts crying for three days. Yes, music can manipulate us, but it also has a great effect to make us bigger and better than we do. Pythagoras was right: these great voices unite us with the universe and save us from our bad individuality. How many times I have felt particularly by looking for the secret emotional life listening to the passage. And many of my scenes from my novel come from the bright nodes that happened to me at the concert. Music is something so human, in short, that it has all its contents: beauty, violence, serenity, joy, pain, feeling. Our last moment is followed by the ultimate heartbeat.