"Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here."

I’d say that throughout my high school career, the phrase that I heard most often was “Jonesy, dammit, stop singing!”

Again, if you don’t know me very well (and you’d really have to not know me well at all to not notice this), I sing a lot. Not at choir, not at karaoke, not at talent shows, not even when someone has a guitar out; just to myself. It’s not particularly rare to see me walking across the quad singing Ben Folds or Avenue Q or something for no reason whatsoever. I’ve done it as long as I can remember, it’s not a habit that I just picked up one day. I distinctly remember that in first grade, I was singing “A Whole New World” to myself during a spelling test, and the teacher had to ask me to be quiet. That wouldn’t be so bad if the exact same thing hadn’t happened during a government quiz senior year.

I get songs stuck in my head (my dad calls them “ear worms”), and more often than not, I just can’t stop myself. It’s not like I make a conscious decision to spontaneously burst into song. Once I start, I’m usually aware I’m doing it within the first couple notes or so, unless I’m concentrating really hard on something else. I’ve tried quitting (believe me, I’ve tried), but again, the first couple notes usually eke their way out before I quite know what’s happening. By that point, I really think that it’d be more embarrassing to stop suddenly and turn red than to just follow through. Following though makes it look voluntary, even if it’s not. I’ve mostly just accepted that it’s a habit I’ll always have, for better or worse, and that people can just deal with it.

I’ve started to embrace it – again, it’s the follow through and commitment to the bit that helps pull it off. The guy wandering around mouthing something under his breath looks a little bit creepy; the guy who struts down the street belting “Hey Jude,” complete with contorted facial expressions, is just a badass. He’s got confidence. People watching him may think he’s a little out there, but it’s the good kind of out there. I might be way off base on this one, but I think if I pull it off right, it gives off the vibe of an easygoing, chill, relatively confident guy who’s just plain enjoying himself. It’s even been a conversation starter at times. I was ambling across the Quad last year, humming Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist from Avenue Q, and sure enough, some girl passing by yelled out “Dude, I love that musical.” We talked for ten or fifteen minutes after that. The same thing’s happened with everything from Coldplay to Ben Folds to Newsies (way underrated, you should check it out).

I think it’s fair to say that people who get really into music fall into it themselves. If you like Eric Clapton, you might try to pick up the guitar. If you listen for sick drum solos in every song you hear, you might try your hand at drums. People who are really into classical music try to learn piano. My favorite instrument (and I do believe it’s an instrument, just as important as all the others) is the human voice. That’s why I enjoy Broadway musicals so much – musicals are the one genre of music where an amazing voice is almost a prerequisite to enjoy any kind of success. Just like a normal person listens to the same guitar solo from a certain song over and over, I poo a little when I listen to John Tartaglia sing Purpose or, as cliché as it is, Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth kick ass in For Good.

Anyway, that’s my rant for the day. I always enjoy providing a little insight into the riddle wrapped in a puzzle wrapped in an enigma that is Matt Jones.