"I Know It's Only Rock And Roll (But I Like It)"

My affection--nay, obsession--with music is probably well-known by anyone who has spoken with me for more than about five minutes. A common sight at Ozarks when I was attending there (and now at OU, though no one here knows me) was me walking across campus with my head down, headphones on, and humming a tune. I'm always listening to music. I turn on music when I wake up. I listen to music when I go to bed. I have music playing while I shower, while I work, while I drive, while I walk, while I draw and write and think and exist. Basically, unless I'm dead, I'm probably listening to music.

One thing I've never really given much thought or consideration to, though, is precisely why I'm so addicted to music. Sure, it's fun, it's expressive, and it's got a good beat and you can dance to some of it, but why is music so important to me as an individual? Lots of other people like music, but few of the people I know are so fierce in their expounding of the art's virtues, and so vehement in their defense of what they classify as "good music." So, why me?

I think a lot of it comes from my father. Some of my strongest childhood memories involve he and I sitting in the floor of the living room and listening to Beatles records while he told me about the time when the Beatles were together. Back then, the music was just fun--songs like "Yellow Submarine" and "Lovely Rita" were and are rather infectious pop tunes, and it's hard not to sing along--but more than that, music was a way to connect to my father, a way to relate to him. Listening to music was a shared activity between he and I, and since he was usually gone all the time on business, moments such as that were sometimes hard to come by.

In the fifth grade, my father took me to see my first concert--the Doobie Brothers. The concert was a birthday present for me, though my dad has since admitted that really it was more just an excuse for him to go see one of his favorite bands perform. I knew maybe three Doobie Brothers songs at the time--"Blackwater," "China Grove," and "Jesus is Just Alright"--but enjoyed the show nonetheless. It sparked something inside of me, something which has only grown stronger with time.

After the Doobie Brothers concert, I began attending more and more rock shows, and I loved them all. I saw ZZ Top, Tom Petty, Genesis, Van Halen, CS&N (that's Crosby, Stills, and Nash), Aerosmith, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, REO Speedwagon, Styx, Eric Clapton, 1964: The Tribute, and other, not-so-well-known acts. I loved every one of them.

Music, then, is my connection with my father. We still talk about music all the time; about bands we like and dislike, about the best albums, about whether or not the new album coming out by some classic rocker is worth the purchase, and about what makes good music. Our tastes run parallel in many cases, though I've since branched out from where I started with my father. But it's a strong common ground for us when we have very little in common as far as interests and aptitudes are concerned. He's a math person, interested in cars. I am more interested in reading and writing and drawing than I ever will be in cars, and I can't do a math problem to save my life (though I can sit and debate philosophy and theology for hours on end). We're very different people, but music connected us. Music connects me to many of my friends. I've used it as a common ground, as a starting point to get to know someone, and as a way of expressing my own thoughts when I couldn't put them in words. People who discount the power of music really have no idea what they're talking about, and I like to think my life, such as it is, is a testament to the fact that music can and does have power. It inspires, it consoles, it expresses what cannot be expressed in mere words, it lights a fire in the soul and lets us soar beyond the merely physical. To quote Blur, "music is my radar."

Maybe that bores other people, and maybe they think I make too much of a big deal out of music and its power, but I can't think of any other form of entertainment that can have the emotional impact music has on me. Let's see a sitcom truly break your heart or heal it.

~chuck

Song of the Moment: Billy Joel, "It's still rock and roll to me"