Socrates on “Rock”
THE POWER OF MUSIC
Socrates: Hello, Felicia. I told you we’d meet again. What is that strange device you’re wearing today? Is it some sort of medical therapy for your ears?
Felicia Flake: Hi, Socrates. Boy, you are out of it! This is my Walkman.
S: It does not seem to be walking. Nor does it seem to be a man.
F: I’m listening.
S: To what?
F: My rock.
S: Oh, dear. Perhaps it is more than medical therapy that you need. You think your rock talks to you?
F: Rock is music, Socrates.
S: You think your rock sings to you? Am I wrong to take its stony silence for granite?
F: Silly! It’s not a rock; it’s rock.
S: The abstract universal essence sings to you?
F: Rock music means music that makes you rock.
S: Oh. Would it make me rock too?
F: Here. See for yourself. Listen.
S: (Listening) Oh. But when will the music begin?
F: That’s it.
S: I’m not rocking.
F: What did you hear?
S: Not the Muses, certainly. I would hardly know how to describe it.
F: That was hard rock. Maybe you’d like soft rock better.
S: Are soft rocks thrown less painfully at the ear?
F: You might say that. Here, try this one: it’s acid rock. And this one: it’s punk rock.
S: (Listening) Felicia, I would like to ask you a question that you might consider very strange.
F: Not from you I wouldn’t. Ask away.
S: Have you ever considered the possibility that this…this…
F: Music.
S: …that this sound might do any harm to you?
F: You mean the volume? Nah, I’m used to high decibels.
S: No, I mean the spirit.
F: What in the world are you talking about?
S: You do know that music has a magical power, don’t you?
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