There are hammock fans, there are music lovers. We at the Hammock Collective love both, and ideally at the same time. What could be better than devoting yourself to good tunes in the gentle vibrations of a hammock?
And where could it be more beautiful than on your favorite island? My favorite island is Koh Phangan. If you've already visited Koh Phangan, you've probably heard the nickname Hammock Island. Unfortunately, the island has suffered greatly from the masses of tourists. Full Moon tourism, in particular, is rapidly transforming the island. And yet, many of the bungalow complexes have remained essentially unchanged and have retained the hammock life charm of earlier days.
Nowhere in the world is there better music to listen to than on Koh Phangan. The island has a special energy, an almost mystical aura created as the vibrant colors transform into the often crystal-clear starry sky every evening. Listening to your favorite songs there is bound to give you goosebumps.
Sunset is approaching, the view of the calm sea is more impressive than any Hollywood high-tech gimmick. The nap is complete, the cold shower is reviving the spirits. The incense ritual is prepared, the boombox is charged, and the sunset can begin from the hammock.
Once I'm in the hammock, I immediately enjoy the infinite comfort. And I think to myself that only the womb could have been more comfortable than this hammock. Even though Hammock Art hammocks aren't lightweight compared to Ticket To The Moon, they're always with me on every trip. Because once I get to the bungalow, the hammock becomes my bed on vacation.
An exhilarating sip of a Leo beer brings me to the crucial thought of the moment. All I need is the right music, and then I'll be closer to paradise than ever. If it weren't for the constant pressure to decide which sound to choose. Because the iPod is a real beast. 5,000 songs, many of them manually imported over days, the selection of my favorite music probably beats even the smartest Spotify algorithm. So I pick a song and let chance take over.
I choose Clark Hutchinson's "The Summer Seems Longer." A very gentle, 9-minute blues ballad with endless solos, in which every single note brings the island spirit to life. The sunset glows over the horizon. The shuffle now chooses Paolo Nutini's "Growing Up Besides You." Listen to the song, close your eyes, join us on Koh Phangan, and wait for the moment "When the sun sets the sea, and the river,..." Goosebumps, eh?
I'm really excited to hear what the next song will be. When excitement turns to excitement, the next song will take us to Jamaica. To Kingston. Not to Bob Marley, but to Peter Tosh. Get up, stand up, stand up for your right.
I don't want to withhold one last song from you, because dusk has already fallen over the island, the crickets are chirping in time, the moon is shining brilliantly and I notice how much the song Tezeta by Mulatu Astatke touches me.
Everything inside me is swaying, not just the comfortable hammock. It's one of those rare moments in life when my thirst is fully quenched and all my senses are in full bloom. Even though my thirst for life remains in absolute harmony, my attention turns to my thirst for a new beer.
Music and hammocks are experiences of freedom. And we should consciously experience these experiences.
