Last night, as my husband and I were driving home from babysitting our nephew, I was changing radio stations, trying to get away from yet another Miley Cyrus song (I feel like she is infecting this planet). I landed by chance on CBC Radio 2 which was playing the program Tonic, a Jazz program (because jazz makes you cooler, right?). My husband complained that the music was putting him to sleep, but I felt the opposite. My soul felt alive. The trumpets. The saxophone. The bass line. I love it. I then began to tell my husband about how much I love having diverse taste in music.
When I was younger, around thirteen or fourteen, music was truly my lifeline. I got through many a heartbreak (because being a fourteen girl means you get your heart broken daily) from the acoustic guitar of Dashboard Confessional. I loved anything with a pop-punk kind flair, and even tried a screamo phase, which didn’t last very long. Besides my eternal love for The Beatles, my circle of musical interest did not extend far.
But in later years with some exposure to different genres, I came to appreciate music for being music. I love that tonight as I was cleaning I had a varied playlist that ranged from The Beach Boys to The Shins to Lady Antebellum to songs from my favourite musicals like West Side Story and Funny Face.
Music is still my very much lifeline. Even though my life isn’t as tragic as I thought it was when I was fourteen, it still gives me breath when I feel breathless. Music adds joy to my best days and gives me comfort on my worst. As ABBA sings, “without a song or a dance, what are we?”. I find immense truth in that. Music inspires me, motivates me, and gives me a home, no matter where I am.
