The line snakes across the front yard, slithering slowly at first. The leader picks up speed, tugging the line left, pulling suddenly to the right, wrapping quickly into a tight circle and then yanking forward at a full run. Little feet push to keep up the mad pace, fingers painfully vised hand-to-hand, fighting to stay clasped. A whip to the right and feet leave the ground, the last three in line somersaulting into a jumbled dog pile. The leader, powered by an adrenaline rush, darts now. She spins to the second in line, grasps with both of her hands, and twists. She uses her momentum to crack her whip one more time. The tail breaks off with explosive yelps as the leader laps the yard in victory.
At age two, my son asked for drums. We purchased a cute plastic set that he played like a pro. Paul also latched onto a harmonica at the same age, dancing around his room playing a singsong tune. He asked for a drum kit around age six. Tight on space, we purchased a Yamaha keyboard, found music lessons that combined singing with playing to temporarily satisfy his musical urge. His instructor, during her summer camps, encouraged her students to add another instrument to their playing skills. Paul asked my brother for the forgotten snare drum sitting in his closet. Every year, the subject of a drum kit surfaced. Because of space limitation, Paul ended up with both a bass and electric guitar. Although he enjoyed both, he still longed for a kit. By his fourteenth birthday, we decided to get rid of our guest room and fill it with drums. From the first second Paul held sticks in his hands, he played wonderfully. Before we knew it, he picked up a second kit, filling the smallest room with double bass beats and practicing with Neil Peart on loop. The summer he turned fourteen, Slipknot hit San Antonio with the Tattoo the Earth tour. My son, now thirty-six and an audio engineer, still prefers the music from that one crucial year when he’s looking for “comfort music” during a rough day.
Always curious, Paul dipped into recent brain studies searching for neurological reasons for music and genre preferences, discovering that most men’s “go to” music stems from what they listened to at age fourteen. For women, it’s age thirteen. Over the years, my husband’s purchased everything ever produced by The Beatles and Rush, the two groups he listened to endlessly as he entered his teen years. He picked up both bass and guitar during those years and serenaded his way through high school with “Blackbird” or “Fly by Night.” What did I listen to at age thirteen? The first 8-track I ever purchased was Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection. My comfort music, though, doesn’t center on a single performer or group. My mornings during my early teen years found me listening to KTSA as I dressed for school. Evenings our family played my parent’s records on the stereo, so Pete Foutain, Buddy Rich, or Chet Atkins entertained us. By nightfall, my radio played classical music. When I’m feeling down now, I’m just as likely to listen to Lizzofor a pick-me-up as I am Elton John. However, over the years I’ve rarely purchased my own CDs, and my iTunes is almost empty—except for Elton John, Stevie Wonder, and James Taylor—all favorites from the year 1970.
I leave with the question—What is your “comfort music”?
IOUNIO's "Toy Kingdom" is one of my favorite songs. Want to help new musicians and Audio Engineers? It's easy:
Once you wept with Walter Set aside your abhorrence of Camelot And clung to Fairness until Truth no longer served you Once you honored Dover’s dead Not manipulating and abusing our soldiers And consuming the mighty military for your agenda Once you believed in Choices Before Rush, Glenn and Sean nourished your contempt For anyone not like you Once you loved without attaching strings Before clan controlled your false superiority And family pride rode on disdain for “Others” Once you opened your hearth and home Until your religiosity distorted your soul To armor you behind gates with guns
Once you wept with Walter Set aside your abhorrence of Camelot And clung to Fairness until Truth no longer served you Once you honored Dover’s dead Not manipulating and abusing our soldiers And consuming the mighty military for your agenda Once you believed in Choices Before Rush, Glenn and Sean nourished your contempt For anyone not like you Once you loved without attaching strings Before clan controlled your false superiority And family pride rode on disdain for “Others” Once you opened your hearth and home Until your religiosity distorted your soul To armor you behind gates with guns
Recently, I’ve noted several friends refer to their “theme song.” They have one special melody or lyric that harmonizes with significant events in their lives. I’ve tried to think of my one special piece, but instead I hum out tunes from different periods of my life. In high school, it was Elton John’s “Daniel” playing on my 8-track. In college, I remember singing “Some Day Soon” by Firefall when I studied. After I got married, my music mixed with David’s—Eagles, Beatles, Heart, Billy Joel, Kansas, Yes, Rush. I didn’t listen to any one particular group, let alone have a “theme song” that represented my life at that time.
The 80s blurred by with us searching out new sounds to counter the airwaves’ disco drone. Always a classical music lover, I remember listening at night to a local station that rasped, gasped, and hissed with poor reception; but I didn’t care. I discovered Jazz during these years, and I revisited all the big bands my parents introduced to me as a child. Never having much money during the early years of our marriage, we carefully picked each album we purchased. By the time our son turned two, he expressed a liking to many of the soundtracks for his favorite movies. We had the music from Beetlejuice, Mary Poppins, and half a dozen Disney animated films providing the beep and the bop to our road trips. Out of all of the songs, I never thought of one, though, as my theme.
Decades merge with a multitude of musicians flavoring my life. Millions of words from lyrics spice up my thoughts at any given point in time, and I’ll sing a refrain or two out of the blue. I have no new favorite song at the moment that makes me think, “This is me!” I keep waiting for a piece to tug at my heart or make me wanna dance. In the meantime, I wonder about everyone else out there. What is your special song? What makes it special for you?
At age
two, my son asked for drums. We purchased a cute plastic set that he played
like a pro. Paul also latched onto a harmonica at the same age, dancing around
his room playing a singsong tune. He asked for a drum kit around age six. Tight
on space, we purchased a Yamaha keyboard, found music lessons that combined
singing with playing to temporarily satisfy his musical urge. His instructor,
during her summer camps, encouraged her students to add another instrument to
their playing skills. Paul asked my brother for the forgotten snare drum
sitting in his closet. Every year, the subject of a drum kit surfaced. Because of
space limitation, Paul ended up with both a bass and electric guitar. Although
he enjoyed both, he still longed for a kit. By his fourteenth birthday, we
decided to get rid of our guest room and fill it with drums. From the first
second Paul held sticks in his hands, he played wonderfully. Before we knew it,
he picked up a second kit, filling the smallest room with double bass beats and
practicing with Neil Peart on loop. The summer he turned fourteen, Slipknot hit
San Antonio with the Tattoo the Earth tour. My son, now thirty-six and an audio
engineer, still prefers the music from that one crucial year when he’s looking
for “comfort music” during a rough day.
Always curious, Paul
dipped into recent brain studies searching for neurological reasons for music
and genre preferences, discovering that most men’s “go to” music stems from
what they listened to at age fourteen. For women, it’s age thirteen. Over the
years, my husband’s purchased everything ever produced by The Beatles and Rush,
the two groups he listened to endlessly as he entered his teen years. He picked
up both bass and guitar during those years and serenaded his way through high
school with “Blackbird” or “Fly by Night.” What did I listen to at age
thirteen? The first 8-track I ever purchased was Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection. My comfort music,
though, doesn’t center on a single performer or group. My mornings during my
early teen years found me listening to KTSA as I dressed for school. Evenings
our family played my parent’s records on the stereo, so Pete Foutain, Buddy
Rich, or Chet Atkins entertained us. By nightfall, my radio played classical
music. When I’m feeling down now, I’m just as likely to listen to Lizzofor a pick-me-up as I am Elton John.
However, over the years I’ve rarely purchased my own CDs, and my iTunes is
almost empty—except for Elton John, Stevie Wonder, and James Taylor—all favorites
from the year 1970.
I leave with the
question—What is your “comfort music”?
I just added IOUNIO's "World Around Me" to my playlist. Supporting musicians and Audio Enineers is easy. Just LISTEN, LIKE, COMMENT, REPOST and SUBSCRIBE!
Recently, I’ve noted several friends refer to their “theme song.” They have one special melody or lyric that harmonizes with significant events in their lives. I’ve tried to think of my one special piece, but instead I hum out tunes from different periods of my life. In high school, it was Elton John’s “Daniel” playing on my 8-track. In college, I remember singing “Some Day Soon” by Firefall when I studied. After I got married, my music mixed with David’s—Eagles, Beatles, Heart, Billy Joel, Kansas, Yes, Rush. I didn’t listen to any one particular group, let alone have a “theme song” that represented my life at that time. The 80s blurred by with us searching out new sounds to counter the airwaves’ disco drone. Always a classical music lover, I remember listening at night to a local station that rasped, gasped, and hissed with poor reception; but I didn’t care. I discovered Jazz during these years, and I revisited all the big bands my parents introduced to me as a child. Never having much money during the early years of our marriage, we carefully picked each album we purchased. By the time our son turned two, he expressed a liking to many of the soundtracks for his favorite movies. We had the music from Beetlejuice, Mary Poppins, and half a dozen Disney animated films providing the beep and the bop to our road trips. Out of all of the songs, I never thought of one, though, as my theme. Decades merge with a multitude of musicians flavoring my life. Millions of words from lyrics spice up my thoughts at any given point in time, and I’ll sing a refrain or two out of the blue. I have no new favorite song at the moment that makes me think, “This is me!” I keep waiting for a piece to tug at my heart or make me wanna dance. In the meantime, I wonder about everyone else out there. What is your special song? What makes it special for you?
