A friend once told me that, when it came to music, his talent lay in listening. I am the same way. I can't sing. I can't dance. I can't play any instrument.
But I can't live without music.
Music has always been part of the language of memory for me. I can hear songs like Robert John's "Sad Eyes" and be instantly transported to the moment in 1979 when I had to give my dog away. If no one is around, and I'm feeling the least bit melancholy, I'll keep listening all the way through and wind up in tears by the end.
But I can't live without music.
Music has always been part of the language of memory for me. I can hear songs like Robert John's "Sad Eyes" and be instantly transported to the moment in 1979 when I had to give my dog away. If no one is around, and I'm feeling the least bit melancholy, I'll keep listening all the way through and wind up in tears by the end.
My life is an endless soundtrack of such moments. There are numerous bands and musicians that I can credit for helping to shape my character, while there are songs and albums that have punctuated my life through times good and bad.
I have a feeling that it's that way for most people. Everyone is, in some way, connected to music. We create and consume it. We let it speak to us and through it we speak to each other; to God, even.
All of the entries in PC #6 - let's call them "tracks" - document our love affair with beautiful noise. It starts with my own sociological exploration of U.K. Punk as a social movement before turning to Paul Borst's exploration of his life as a soundtrack. Christopher Mattera celebrates the iconic Grateful Dead on the heels of their 50th anniversary, while musician and educator Ray Novack looks back on his life as a general business musician. Then it's on to the Adirondacks and a profile of the unlikeliest of rappers from the unlikeliest of places. Christine Collins looks at how very loud music shaped her life and became a career. Then we finish with my daughter's reflections on her first two very different concert experiences.
And you can add your own "tracks."
I encourage you to add your voice via the comments section. If you feel as if you have something more substantial to say, but may have missed out - no worries! - you can submit a piece for PC's blog.
We'll make room.
I have a feeling that it's that way for most people. Everyone is, in some way, connected to music. We create and consume it. We let it speak to us and through it we speak to each other; to God, even.
All of the entries in PC #6 - let's call them "tracks" - document our love affair with beautiful noise. It starts with my own sociological exploration of U.K. Punk as a social movement before turning to Paul Borst's exploration of his life as a soundtrack. Christopher Mattera celebrates the iconic Grateful Dead on the heels of their 50th anniversary, while musician and educator Ray Novack looks back on his life as a general business musician. Then it's on to the Adirondacks and a profile of the unlikeliest of rappers from the unlikeliest of places. Christine Collins looks at how very loud music shaped her life and became a career. Then we finish with my daughter's reflections on her first two very different concert experiences.
And you can add your own "tracks."
I encourage you to add your voice via the comments section. If you feel as if you have something more substantial to say, but may have missed out - no worries! - you can submit a piece for PC's blog.
We'll make room.
Header art by T. Guzzio.
