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Music as a vehicle for cultural expression
This example is a common app essay that conveys how music can be used as a critical vehicle for cultural exchange. The essay writer recounts an encounter with their neighbor. Mr. Santos who introduces him to Bolivian culture through the medium of music. He uses a personal narrative to convey an authentic tone that represents their personality and values. In doing so, the narrative illustrates how music can transcend both cultural and language barriers. This example is significant because it conveys the value of celebrating cultural diversity and identity and the relevance of music to this process.
September 26, 2024
* The sample essays are for browsing purposes only and are not to be submitted as original work to avoid issues with plagiarism.
Surname 1
Student’s Name
Professor’s Name
Course
Date
Music as a Vehicle for Cultural Expression
It was July, and I had gotten into a routine of playing guitar in the late afternoon,
allowing the melodies to drift through my open window as the summer breeze filled my room.
On this particular day, about to strum my first chord, I stopped. Instead of my usual playlist, I
caught the beat of a rhythm I had never heard. It was a strange, yet inviting sound; a fast, lilting
melody carrying a life in the sound waves that kept me rooted to the spot I was in. I could not
resist the appeal of that sound and just followed it down the street. Closer, I found my neighbor,
Mr. Santos, sitting on his porch playing some instrument that looked quite unfamiliar to me. It
was small, made of wood, with five double strings humming some strange resonance. I hesitated
a moment before calling out to him. He looked up, smiled and replied, "Es un charango. It's from
Bolivia." He gestured me closer, and I sat down beside him on the steps.
The music came easy from his fingers. The sound of the charango curled around us like a
story waiting to spill out. "That's how we celebrate our festivals in the mountains. The charango
is like the heart of the Andes," he said between songs. He played something entitled Carnavalito,
and, not understanding the words, the rhythm told me of joy, of tradition, of something infinitely
deeper. For the first time, music was not a series of notes and chords; it was a story. A way of
relaying history, identity, and belonging. Over the next few weeks, I would always find myself
drawn to Mr. Santos's porch. We never really spoke that much to each other, and that did not
Surname 2
matter because language was not a barrier. The melodies substituted conversations we could not
have. He was teaching me how to play a few songs, his fingers dancing nimbly across the strings
of the charango while he patiently explained the meaning of each. One song was dedicated to
Pachamama, the Earth goddess, and how Bolivians give a tribute to her in regard to the harvest
season. The second one talked about their fight for independence; the rhythm carried pride and
pain.
Through him, I came to know of Bolivia. Its towering mountains, struggles for freedom,
exuberant festivals, and rich traditions. His songs were windows to an unknown world from
which suddenly the connection was born. As he played, I could almost smell the chaotic markets
of La Paz teeming with an explosion of colorful textiles and fresh-roasted coffee. I envisioned
the sweeping landscapes of the Altiplano, the hard blue sky stretching out endlessly across the
high plains. At home, I started to play my guitar, using the rhythm of the charango mixed with
the rock and blues I had been practicing for years. The more I played, the more I realized how
music can amalgamate cultures and ideas. My guitar was no longer confined to the sound of the
rock bands I admired but a tool for exploration, a way to bridge different worlds much as Mr.
Santos' charango had done for me.
That summer, I spent more time with Mr. Santos than with most people in my
neighborhood. I would bring my guitar over to his porch, sharing music with him over strong
coffee. He would play traditional Andean songs; I would show him riffs I had written. Other than
music, we rarely spoke of anything, but in those shared moments, I knew more about him than
words could show. His music was the only connection he had to home, to family, and to
memories long past. For him, the charango was more than just a musical instrument; it was a
Surname 3
lifeline to his culture. And for me, those musical exchanges became a lesson in understanding
how music could carry within it something of who we were.
In retrospect, that summer really shaped my outlook on music and culture. Music no
longer was a source of entertainment or a time passer. Now, it made complete sense as a medium
of expression wherein history, identity, and emotion were conveyed. Every time the guitar
strummed or a charango hummed, I did not think about the two as separate worlds anymore. I
thought of these threads in one global tapestry, every note reflecting not just the people but their
stories.
This realization did not only shift my approach toward music, but also influenced how I
interact with others. I have now come to realize that each song, each rhythm carries with it a
piece of someone's culture, their story, their way of looking at the world. And that is the power of
music in all its forms; to connect us, to bridge divides, to celebrate our differences, and to remind
us of our common humanity. It is in the strum of an Andean charango or my own guitar in my
room that when we play, much more than sound is shared. We are sharing stories.
September 26, 2024
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Academic level:
High school
Type of paper:
Common app essay
Discipline:
Music
Citation:
MLA
Pages:
3 (825 words)
* The sample essays are for browsing purposes only and are not to be submitted as original work to avoid issues with plagiarism.
