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Cohabitation means 'sharing a living space with others'. One would assume that any article concerned with co-habitation and music, would by necessity recall the halcyon state of 'around the campfire-ness'. This is not that article. Our terms bear more examination. The words we use, within the boundaries of the question, encourage answers that bolster the assumptions of the query. This is of limited use to the serious seeker of more, shall we say, 'novel' ways of being.

What then, does it mean 'to share'? What do we mean by 'living'? What is 'space' in this context? Who, crucially, are 'others'? Finally, although this is not implicit in the initial definition, where do we locate this statement in terms of the music we listen to? What indeed, is music for?

This article is an encouragement beyond passivity. It asks for dialogue to be opened, with that which has no body, no brain, no tongue, and yet remains alive, conscious and sentient. It asks you to imagine for a moment, whole heartedly; without reservation; quite literally... that music is a living entity.

A warning: there are a few technical and esoteric terms within this article. The author assumes that you, dear reader, are possessed of an inquisitive and curious mind, for whom the discovery of new lexicons remains a gratefully received gift.

SHARING

When we share, we invite another to partake of what we have. Music is, in its purest form, beyond ownership. It can only be experienced. Though correlation does not imply causation, this is a quality music shares in common with people (or at least ought to).

LIVING

A biological materialist defines life in relatively simple terms. It is 'the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change preceding death' (Oxford Dictionary). However, there are other modes of knowing life and perhaps unsurprisingly, these are not dictated by the 'western paradigm. Let's focus on one that carries a surprising amount of weight for the listener and artist, 'Animism' or 'a kind of animism'.

At it's most fundamental, animism is the notion/knowledge that everything is family, including not only other human beings, but also animals, plants, places and even ideas. The definition of what life means, is extended beyond the grossly organic or carbon based. A Vedic idealist sees a universe that is made of consciousness. An animist sees a universe of people. The ideas cross over and are useful touchstones moving forward.

Why should we privilege this idea over any others? Putting aside the relative unfairness of asking this question of animism when the same thing might as easily be asked of materialist ontologies, the key, as far as this writer is concerned, is in praxis. Try it and see. This is not an academic article, rather it is my hope to draw you into experimentation. In this case, you will be experimenting with personhood.

SPACE

Space is a word that has crept up on us in modern times. There are work spaces. Art spaces. Living spaces. “this is a lovely space” a beaming admirer might enthusiastically exclaim. Space however, implies an absence. According to Denise Lawrence-Zuniga “space is often defined by an abstract scientific, mathematical, or measurable conception while place refers to the elaborated cultural meanings people invest in or attach to a specific site or locale”. I like to say that there is a 'multi dimensionality' to 'place', an axis of meaning made up of (at the very least) lines of temporal, geographical, experiential and imaginal information. Lawrence-Zuniga's definition is nice and pithy, but it is also anthropocentric. We are always in context. We are imagined by place, as much as we imagine it. This might be as simple as the popularity of rain coats amongst the populace of a rainy city or as complex as the existence of multiple religions in a sacred place known for its numinosity. By observing this kind of two way realtionality, we might begin to take tentative steps upon the road towards granting personhood to place.

OTHERS

This word is the doozy. 'Others' implies personhood. Can an object be othered? We might speak of 'taboo' objects, but these are granted life and will by the culture that taboos. What happens when we refer to 'things' or 'objects' as people? Let's take, for example, a tree. A tree is relatively easy, in a cognitive sense, to grant personhood to. Science tells us that the tree is alive (by popular science's limited frame of reference). For one, it's organic. Furthermore, we can perceive an observable cycle of life and death. To make the matter easier still, in the imaginal, wait a host of tree based beings,pre-conjured; Treebeard, The Deku tree, Dryads and the Green Man to name but a few One might discount the notion that a tree is a person, but the idea that it could be a person, is not one we need to fish deeply for. However, we can and should go further into less comfortable territory.

I've already suggested that places can be thought of as people. Conceptually, this might seem like an almighty stretch...although one might be forced to admit, that a forest of trees, sits comfortably somewhere further along the credulity line of 'place as person', than say one's local ALDI. Again this is only conceptual. Usefully, knowledge of the concept of the word 'egregore' ,opens up a world of personhood. Wikipedia defines the idea thusly: “'Egregore' is an occult concept representing a non-physical entity that arises from the collective thoughts of a distinct group of people.” 

So maybe ALDI shoppers have a common identity. Would you say that is true? What about Ferrari owners? Manchester United fans? Christians? BDSM adherents? People that watch Coronation Street?

What about language? What about ideas? The truth, is that we have no idea where thoughts come from. Yet it would be safe to say that they have the capacity to behave like living things (some would say that they can only form from the depths of organic matter. This would make them intrinsically alive in the same way that the heart or the lungs 'are alive'). An idea, granted person hood, begins to resemble a Jungian archetype. If we are more daring still, even more forbidden entities, such as demons, spirits or deities, begin to materialise before us.

Bear in mind that 'thoughts' as we know them, privilege an anthropomorphic conception of mind. How does a tree think? Does it think with thoughts defined in terms of image or language? How about a river? Would a river, a tree and a person think in anything like a similar fashion? This seems unlikely (though not entirely impossible - we ought to keep our options open). Perhaps, just maybe, our notion of what mind is, needs a rethink...or maybe we could do with changing how we think, as opposed to merely thinking different thoughts-if indeed we are the one's doing the thinking. Consider the idea that all matter is sacred, that it possesses an inherent numinosity. Such a thing, if it were true, would suggest (as Charles Eisenstein has often put forward), that the physical world is mostly an unknown property. In other words, its capacity for the miraculous, is way beyond what we allow ourselves to imagine. After all, the modern person prefers to either a) dismiss the spiritual or b) lock it behind a veil.

THE HILLS ARE ALIVE...

Is music people? It is certainly 'in motion'...it can grow, it can reproduce, it takes functional activity, it changes and it can die. But all this 'in a sense', contained within that misunderstood word 'metaphor'... which means, literally, 'transferral from beyond'. In this case, we can think of metaphor as being a conveyor of meaning from beyond the acceptable category of 'life as we know it'.

Consider the song lines of the Aboriginal peoples of Australia. These are assemblages of rhythmic poetry, flush with information, passed down through thousands of years from the Dreamtime. They form an invisible network of meaning spanning the continent, the songs containing the right way to pass, the things one might see, the shape of the land, the weather, its people, its history and everything in between. Nor are they static, as modern day elders receive new songs in dreams that tell the story of new ways and old ways of being. Ultimately, they complete the spirit of the land, complete its animus.

The imagination is the dreaming, or more properly, to use Henry Corbin's term, 'the imaginal' is the place where all things are born and find their destiny. Corbin himself, defined the imaginal as:

“a world that is ontologically as real as the world of the senses and that of the intellect”

Quantum science suggests to us that the observer seems to be locked in a dance of creation with the observed. However, there is no doubt that we are also observed. As stated earlier, we are also imagined. In a universe that throbs with life beyond life, as we might call it, this shared space of becoming, is better defined as the 'imaginal', rather than the 'imaginary'. Such a designation is useful in order to better highlight our vividly creative reality.

Songs and music, are perhaps in some fashion, fundamentally a part of this creation space (and it may well be a 'place'. I use 'space' to signify the void, in the 'Eastern' sense). Interestingly, Tolkien conceived of Middle Earth and all things, as being the result of a divine and cosmic song. What is music, if not a harmony of sound, the sudden grasping of meaning from crude and rude matter? There are inescapable analogies to be drawn to our own being, our own consciousness which, with the aid of a suitably equipped poetic sensibility, can be recognised as a form of music. More stirring still, each of us is a song, perhaps with repeatedly observable refrains, though with an infinite variety of lyrical content, married to the contours of rhythm and melody.

Is it madness then, to turn the metaphor around (and I mean metaphor in the sense I outlined above), to see the songs and music that we cherish, as people?

WHY ARE WE DOING THIS AGAIN?

Consider the benefits, the reciprocal feedback loop of positivity that comes from the appreciation of 'things' as 'people'. If we start by treating humans as people, then we're off to a great start. Indeed, the great traumas of our time might be almost completely remedied by this simple and yet so far, so distant practice. I say “almost”, since we can full well see the results of our identification of the world and it's contents as resources/objects. Animals aren't conscious of life, being governed only by their instinct. Plants belong to a lower order of life, that for all intents and purposes, may as well not be alive at all. Deforestation, soil erosion, generational poisoning, mass factory farms, wanton pollution and so on, are the calling cards left in this mode of perception's wake.

Living within the context of a peopled world, changes everything. For people we, at the very least, respect. In turn we are respected. A forest, allowed to be a person, is more than happy (mostly) to share it's bounty. The same thing can be said of a meadow or a river. The permaculture movement shows us just how much is possible within the framework of a different kind of thinking (though it is almost re-discovering the wheel in this sense...and slowly).

HOWEVER...

Within the ultra secular machine universe we all know so well, it's tempting and dangerous to go along with the idea that 'forest as person/people' is a good idea because it helps support our continued survival in what is in fact, a very 'tool like' fashion. This is almost as bad as the perception of said forest as a resource, and not truly the reason to relate to a thing as a person. Although seemingly more organic and healthy, as a modality of relationality, it contains the seed of the machine in its pretence to otherwise.

Thus we find much to learn by the appreciation of something that has no obviously measurable material benefit - like a song - as a person. I would argue that music belongs primarily in the community. Indeed, music may be a fundamental component of community. Certainly in the living folk traditions of the Mediterranean, we can hear songs as gossiping relatives, telling the stories of lived occurrences. Songs are daimons that are conjured to tell stories; or more accurately, to be stories.

It is in this communal sense of music, that we discover (and are discovered by in turn), Inspiration Herself (I capitalise the word Inspiration, recognising Her personhood...see the writings of Robert Graves). Music is a companion that ought not to discriminate nor be reserved for the special few our culture deems to be artists. Of course, those souls driven to make the music a lifelong partner - shaman of a kind, will and should exist. But the daimon is there to be revealed by all. It's commodification as an object, is in fact, textbook Satanism in the most chilling sense of the word: 'I am the flesh. All that there is, is me'.

Music as a person, as a revered companion, as a being with which we co-habit, is the primary means we have of gnosis, in the sense of knowing a larger reality. It is the means by which we enchant our lives, even the mundane indignities that we must endure each day in order to survive. These too may be transmuted. And in turn, the enchanted, living universe, births yet more inspiration in its wake. A dangerous thing indeed for the Molochian status quo.

Much still remains to be discovered by those of us struggling for meaning within the context of modern life. Thinking of ourselves as being surrounded by family, is a forgotten way of being. Thus, those of us engaging with the music in this fashion can be considered pioneers, explorers or indeed, psychonauts of the most adventurous kind.

SOME THINGS TO TRY

How do we go about this way of being? Songs aren't human, they won't respond as humans do. That said, diplomacy can take many forms and we must become diplomats in our own homes and bedrooms. Consider all of this to be private and away from the judgements of others. That is, unless you don't give a shit.

1. Speak to song. Language is currently our main form of communication. Will a song respond to it? Certainly we can attempt to hold the intent of our language in our hearts as we communicate. If you enjoy listening to a song, thank them.

2. Dance. Could this be the most obvious way of intertwining with song? We all do it, all the time. But maybe there's a difference when one dances to communicate? With the express intention of impressing or even seducing music? Dance for the music, not to it.

3. Call to the song unheard. Song works with us to find its expression. Whisper to the silence and hear what arrives. Sing as a form of automatic writing. Sing as a form of séance. Sing when your dreams are fresh, when you first awaken. This is perhaps the principle form of communication, which is to bring the music forth. They communicate through us by being realised. This requires the breaking down of personal barriers and judgements such as 'I am not a musician'. But when one enters this partnership with music without the desire to be seen or recognised, one might find that what comes forth, comes forth readily.

4. Add parts to songs you love. Your own personal touch. Your own way of expressing your love for a song. We do this often as children when we don't know the 'right' words. Often times, these early explorations remain with us, even as a briefly recollected smile. It might be worth asking permission. Can one offend a song? Perhaps. Never offer one's own blood.

5. Create a place where one communes with song. A simple altar or designated sacred space. A place for offerings. What can one offer to a song? Often times the use of our own voice. See point 3.What is sought, is a place where the freedom to express the song's desire to be, might be fully realised. Maybe it is a communal place? Better still, open a music venue and make it a temple. Go one better: raise that temple on your own street. Find a way.

CONCLUSION

Living together, is the best form of living. That is, if we live together in harmony with one another. How readily the musical 'metaphor' emerges, how apparent is the lesson of beauty that forms from the co-habitation of elements. Is aesthetic everything? Maybe, maybe not. But beauty is rarely something to be shunned and in this sense, it is near fundamental to our way of being. It is certainly the first brilliant emanation of the harmonic.

Revere song. Know song. Live with song. Give birth to song.

Try it and see.

SOME RANDOM STUFF TO CHECK OUT (OBVIOUS OR OTHERWISE)

The Belbury Tales by Belbury Poly

Dense information packets regarding a people and place that never were, except in the sounds conjured forth by Ghostbox Records founder, Jim Jupp.

Broadcast & The Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults Of The Radio Age by Broadcast

The late Trish Keenan sounded utterly possessed by the fair folk, a mouth piece for another universe. Shades of Arthur Machen. Vital.

Nothing Important by Richard Dawson

Only four Songs on this album, which manages to encapsulate a time, a place and a whole cast of ghosts writhing obscenely on their way from the record to your brain.

The Sorrow Songs By Angeline Morrison

A cavernous expedition into the mostly unheard and unseen past of black England. A heart-breaking, compassionate and hope filled séance. To hear the album, is to be in their presence.

Wounded Galaxies Tap At The Window by Cyclobe

A veritable flood of beings cluster on the waves of this album's music. Funny, weird (recalls Algernon Blackwood's work) and actually, genuinely terrifying. A bit like a god. A lot like a god. Care should be exercised.