Music - The language we don’t all speak but feel

Mia Basic

I feel everything is so ordered and structured. Even as a kid we would do creative writing tasks but if it wasn’t ’structured right’ it was incorrect. Creativity is taken away without realising it and it feels as we get older there is this plug in us that says if I can’t play an instrument or draw or write then I’m not creative and it stops our flow even starting. And I suppose that’s where the power of music comes in, because for me it puts a plug on order and structure and ‘what the world wants’ and lets me go. Music is like another world I enter and I love music festival  because it’s like everyone joins the world and sees the world from a hearing/feeling perspective. I’ve never been great with saying what I feel but I can show it through sound and that’s why it’s important because essentially it shows a part of me I can never express. And I’m so grateful for music festival because it gives us all a chance to express something words couldn’t. And invites the audience to sit in a feeling or a moment that we can come back too just by listening. But mainly I think music is so important because no matter who you are or where you’re from it’s the language we don’t all need to speak or understand because we can just feel it and I think that’s so important especially for the world we live in today. So what will you feel this music festival? And how will you react to this?

Eva Parrat

When you join Loreto, whether it is in Year Five, Seven, or later years, you learn that the Music Festival is the heartbeat of this community. It's an event that brings together every student, dissolving external pressures or structures in our lives, showcasing everyone as part of the same sound. You see thousands of individual faces dedicate themselves to helping each other succeed, a physical expression of belonging - a moment where the feeling of being part of the Loreto community becomes visible.

As someone who grew up in a household that was never silent (three siblings, dogs, cats, babysitters running around), silence wasn’t a place of respite but, in some ways, a place that felt empty. During lockdown in Year Seven, I was the only one in the house during the day for months. The endless buzz of my laptop or the sway of the bushes outside replaced the chatter that used to come from downstairs. It was not that the silence made me uncomfortable, but that it left me a desire for sound. And during this time, I found my love for music. 

I had always loved drama and art, but Music was background noise, something I danced or sang to, but never something I analysed. In moments of silence, I was able to listen to music with purpose, becoming fulfilled by the sounds and stories of others.

Just as music gave me purpose in those quiet months, Music Festival gives our whole community a shared purpose — a moment where sound becomes connection. It fulfills not just one person, but thousands.

The night of the Music Festival is one of the rare moments when the entire school breathes in unison. Each girl stands there singing for not just herself but all those around her. When not on stage, she cheers for her friends playing an instrument or doing a solo, feeling the joy that the creativity and success of others bring. While the house choir competition is slightly competitive (Kendall is elite), it is the physical expression of sisterhood, love, and especially this year, Felicity. 

Normo wouldn’t be Normo without Music Festival. And I am forever grateful that the community I will remember from school will be overlaid by the soundtrack that is Music Fest.