I find that a lot of the music I listen to have some form of catharsis to them, and that may have to do with my desire for constant movement and change. With cathartic music there's always a point where you feel something leave your body and dance around you before, with a sweet kiss on the cheek or slight caress of the shoulder, disappearing completely. This feeling is the reason why I love live shows a whole lot, especially the smaller, intimate ones. There's nothing like screaming the lyrics to some of your favorite songs in a crowded room of people who can barely stand; the crowd ebbing and flowing through the room as the music dictates where they'll go next. Your sense of control is lost as you become one with everyone else and feel that something leave all of you, kissing all of your foreheads like a mother comforting her children.
Or you could be the grumpy grump who stands in the corner watching the sweaty sardines pack themselves against the stage. "You kids are ruining the music! Stop screaming!" Stop feeling.
It's okay to be a grumpy grump. Just don't be mean.
I also find that a huge chunk of the music I listen to floats on a moving state of stasis. It's a weird contrast to what my library usually contains, but that part of my collection holds some of the most important songs in my life. Sometimes you don't want to push through a thought, maybe you want to ruminate in it for a bit. These are the songs that I listen to when I want to remember something, and they're mostly all tied to something in my life.
With this song, this performance, specifically, is very important to me.
None of these songs are trying to get through something like the cathartic music that I usually listen to. They all swim in their respective moments, trying to capture the emotions that are tied to them. They exist on their own as images and feelings that can be looked at and felt in the future.