I think the most important thing about music is the sense of

The words of Thom Yorke — “I think the most important thing about music is the sense of escape.” — speak with the weight of a truth as old as time. For since the dawn of man, music has not only been a mirror of the world, but a doorway out of it. When the burdens of life grow heavy, when sorrow presses the heart, when the mind is restless with fear or grief, music becomes a refuge, a flight from the prison of the present into the boundless freedom of imagination and spirit.

The ancients knew this well. The shepherds of Greece carried flutes not only to pass the hours, but to ease the loneliness of the mountains. Their songs gave them wings of the spirit, carrying them from toil into joy. The slaves of Rome sang hymns in the fields, finding in rhythm a freedom denied to their bodies. So too did the Israelites, exiled in Babylon, lift their voices in lament, and through their songs, their souls found strength beyond captivity. Thus Yorke’s words echo the eternal function of music: it is escape not into nothingness, but into a deeper truth, into the vastness where sorrow cannot bind the heart.

Consider the story of the African American spirituals. Born from bondage and pain, these songs gave hope to those whose chains were heavy. They were not merely melodies; they were wings of the soul. A slave, singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” was not only voicing sorrow but soaring beyond the plantation, tasting the escape of freedom in a world that seemed to deny it. Though the body remained bound, the spirit through song was already free. This is the mystery of music: it grants escape even when circumstances do not change.

Thom Yorke himself, known for his haunting and ethereal works with Radiohead, often crafted songs that became vessels of escape for listeners across the globe. Albums such as OK Computer and Kid A were not mere collections of sounds, but worlds in themselves. Many who felt crushed by modern life, by alienation, by the emptiness of consumerism, found in his music a path to something beyond — a sanctuary where they were not alone. Here is Yorke’s confession lived out: the most important thing about music is not fame, not even beauty, but its power to free the soul from chains visible and invisible.

Yet this truth is not only for artists, but for all. Life is filled with burdens, fears, and endless duties. To walk without escape is to be crushed by their weight. Music offers us a sacred release, a reminder that we are more than our labor, more than our failures, more than our sorrows. In melody, in harmony, in rhythm, we discover a freedom no ruler, no tyrant, no hardship can take away. Music reminds us of who we are beneath the noise of the world: eternal beings, longing for peace.

The danger, of course, lies in forgetting this gift. Many treat music only as background noise, as entertainment to fill silence. But those who listen deeply, as Yorke urges, find not noise but escape, not distraction but deliverance. To treat music lightly is to ignore one of the greatest treasures humanity has ever been given. To honor it is to step into its doorway, to let it carry you beyond despair into a place of renewal.

The lesson is clear: cherish music not only for its sound, but for its power. When the world feels heavy, turn to it not as noise, but as a vessel of freedom. Listen deeply, let the notes become your wings, and you will find escape not into emptiness, but into truth, into hope, into healing. Let your life be filled with such escapes, and you will endure all things with strength.

Thus, O seeker, remember Yorke’s wisdom: the most important thing about music is escape. For music does not merely reflect the world — it liberates us from it. Step into its sanctuary, let its melody lift you, and you will find yourself free, if only for a moment, yet in that moment you will taste eternity.