“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord all ye land/ Serve the Lord with gladness; come into His presence with singing../Enter into His gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise/ Be thankful unto him and bless His name.” Psalm 100: 1-2,4

Every once in a while, I need reminded that music is fun. I get all tangled in questions of quality and technique, all braided in issues of meaning of message. As I over think, I lose sight of the joy of seeping in sound. Last night I went to the Ohio Northern University Honors Choir concert. The music was amazing, and the guest director/composer, Joe Martin, obviously loved performing. The final number the choir performed was the spiritual “Down By the Riverside,” and part way through, a Dixieland Jazz Band joined in.

I’ve never been a fan of Dixieland; the few times I ate at Tony Packo’s in Toledo when they had a band playing, I viewed the music as cacophony designed to limit my socializing. The tradition of New Orleans’ Dixieland Jazz bands playing “When the Saints Come Marching In” as funerals leave cemeteries hit me as quirky local color.  But last night, I understood. The rollicking Dixieland beats and humorous trombone glissandos brought even more joy and energy into the performance.  It was fun—and I remembered again how grateful I am for music.

In the abstract, I would always put music high on the list of Things I’m Thankful for, but there’s baggage duct-taped to that. I can explain why both listening to music and making music are often laden with issues and limitations, how I’ve lost touch with what music once brought to me.

Music that’s just fun has always been something of a guilty pleasure. The Beach Boys,’ “Fun, Fun Fun,” The Beatles’ “Twist and Shout, “ The Monkee’s “Stepping Stone,” Van Morrison’s “Moon Dance,” even The Captain and Tennille’s “Muskrat Love”—those are specific titles that are just fun to listen to and fun to sing. Somehow, over the last couple of decades I’ve lost the ability to break out in song as I’m driving down the road or standing in the shower. As much as I want music around me, I’ve changed from a performer to a critic. That’s not a joy-filled transition!

But while the auditorium was echoing with the beat of the bass drum, my toes were tapping and I was smiling. So for day two of my thinking about thankfulness, I’m thinking about how overwhelmingly grateful I am that sometimes, when I’m captured by the melody and bouncing to the beat, music quells my tendency to think too much. Dixieland Jazz is my serendipity of the day!