My Life in Music
Entry
Music is my life. It’s always been there for me; right from the start, and probably will be there until the day I die. It’s in my blood; one of those things I can’t explain or change, yet even begin to understand. It is that way, and I must accept that.
The other day I was watching an old tape from my childhood. There I stood, barely three years old, holding a toy guitar, talking to my dad as he was filming. In response to his question of what I was doing, I simply replied “I am Freddie Mercury.”
As soon as I was physically able to, I would play tapes from my father’s collection, which included; Queen, The Beetles, U2, Led Zeppelin, The Ramones, Nirvana, and so on. He encouraged this, and would often take me to the second hand CD store, and we would spend hours looking through the old records. My mother didn’t think that this choice of music was ideal for a child, but I fought, and got full access to my dad’s tapes eventually, much to her disapproval. If it hadn’t been for those tapes, I highly doubt I would be the same person I am today.
I was never like the other kids my age. Right from the start I was different. I dressed different to all the other girls; preferring baggy shirts and cargo pants over dresses, staying inside and playing guitar over dolls, and listening to music over cartoons. I also thought differently, and saw the world in a more mature way to my peers, or so some specialist said. No formal diagnosis was ever made, other than the fact that I thought deeper and made connections beyond what was normal for my age.
Up until when I was about eight years old, Freddie Mercury was my hero. I would talk about him non-stop to anyone that would listen, dance around the house to his music, try to play along on the piano, and learn to play guitar, as to one day be as awesome as him. The Queen album, which had been given to me, was the most important thing I owned, and I clung to it like a safety blanket. I was a happy, innocent child.
But the innocence could never last. I asked how Freddie Mercury had died.
Awkward question followed awkward question. At first my pleas for answers were brushed aside, left until I would be “old enough to understand”. But I kept on pressuring, determined to know how my hero me his downfall. Finally, my Dad gave in. How did he get Pneumonia? How did he get HIV/AIDS? What is HIV/AIDS? But that did not satisfy me. I had to know more. Everything.
What I learnt shocked me. How could I have been so naïve for the first nine years of my life, when all the time there was this suffering going on all around me? How could I play again knowing that while I was doing that, others would be breathing their last? It took me time to get my head around it, especially at such a young age, and I pulled away from all my friends, preferring to be alone with my thoughts. Just as I almost understood the concept of life and death, my Grandma died of cancer.
I still remember the day of her funeral as if it were yesterday. Being forced into a dress of dark blue silk, and the uncomfortable silence on the ride to the church. Everyone was crying; my little sister, my cousins, my parents, random strangers, my Grandpa. Everyone except for me.
I was supposed to sing at the funeral, having recently been selected for a children’s choir. But I couldn’t sing. When my time came, I stayed sitting, leaving the organist to turn the song into an instrumental piece. For the first time that day, I cried. I understood that my Grandma had lived a good life, she was old, and that it was her turn to go on. We would be left behind on the earth, to remember the good times shared with her, and to live our lives, knowing that someday it would be our turn to go on.
That day, I lost interest in music. I dropped out of choir and didn’t do my piano practice, and didn’t play guitar along to my dad’s tapes. I wouldn’t play them, and wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to them when he was playing them. I turned to song-writing, and fiction to get away from everything. Most of the stuff I wrote would make no sense to anyone other than me, and some of it would make no sense at all. It was in my head, and I needed to get rid of it. I also wrote songs, creating harmonies in my head, but never notating them, or playing them in any way. I felt I couldn’t.
If I could relive those days, I never would have given up my faith in music. It took me a few years to realise it, and before long I was doing my music practice again, and listening to CD’s. In 2004 I rejoined choir and orchestra, and started downloading music of the internet, broadening my collection. Green Day was my favourite band since Freddie Mercury, and through them I discovered My Chemical Romance, amoungst many other great bands. I still listen to the music I started out on, only now it’s on iTunes, not tapes or vinyls.
Now I realise music has always been there for me, even though in the past I have denied it. It has moulded who I am, for the better and taught me valuable lessons. Today Green Day remains my favourite band, I sing in choir and barbershop, and play in an orchestra and 3 bands. Music remains my best subject in school, and I know for certain, it will remain with me in the future.
The other day I was watching an old tape from my childhood. There I stood, barely three years old, holding a toy guitar, talking to my dad as he was filming. In response to his question of what I was doing, I simply replied “I am Freddie Mercury.”
As soon as I was physically able to, I would play tapes from my father’s collection, which included; Queen, The Beetles, U2, Led Zeppelin, The Ramones, Nirvana, and so on. He encouraged this, and would often take me to the second hand CD store, and we would spend hours looking through the old records. My mother didn’t think that this choice of music was ideal for a child, but I fought, and got full access to my dad’s tapes eventually, much to her disapproval. If it hadn’t been for those tapes, I highly doubt I would be the same person I am today.
I was never like the other kids my age. Right from the start I was different. I dressed different to all the other girls; preferring baggy shirts and cargo pants over dresses, staying inside and playing guitar over dolls, and listening to music over cartoons. I also thought differently, and saw the world in a more mature way to my peers, or so some specialist said. No formal diagnosis was ever made, other than the fact that I thought deeper and made connections beyond what was normal for my age.
Up until when I was about eight years old, Freddie Mercury was my hero. I would talk about him non-stop to anyone that would listen, dance around the house to his music, try to play along on the piano, and learn to play guitar, as to one day be as awesome as him. The Queen album, which had been given to me, was the most important thing I owned, and I clung to it like a safety blanket. I was a happy, innocent child.
But the innocence could never last. I asked how Freddie Mercury had died.
Awkward question followed awkward question. At first my pleas for answers were brushed aside, left until I would be “old enough to understand”. But I kept on pressuring, determined to know how my hero me his downfall. Finally, my Dad gave in. How did he get Pneumonia? How did he get HIV/AIDS? What is HIV/AIDS? But that did not satisfy me. I had to know more. Everything.
What I learnt shocked me. How could I have been so naïve for the first nine years of my life, when all the time there was this suffering going on all around me? How could I play again knowing that while I was doing that, others would be breathing their last? It took me time to get my head around it, especially at such a young age, and I pulled away from all my friends, preferring to be alone with my thoughts. Just as I almost understood the concept of life and death, my Grandma died of cancer.
I still remember the day of her funeral as if it were yesterday. Being forced into a dress of dark blue silk, and the uncomfortable silence on the ride to the church. Everyone was crying; my little sister, my cousins, my parents, random strangers, my Grandpa. Everyone except for me.
I was supposed to sing at the funeral, having recently been selected for a children’s choir. But I couldn’t sing. When my time came, I stayed sitting, leaving the organist to turn the song into an instrumental piece. For the first time that day, I cried. I understood that my Grandma had lived a good life, she was old, and that it was her turn to go on. We would be left behind on the earth, to remember the good times shared with her, and to live our lives, knowing that someday it would be our turn to go on.
That day, I lost interest in music. I dropped out of choir and didn’t do my piano practice, and didn’t play guitar along to my dad’s tapes. I wouldn’t play them, and wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to them when he was playing them. I turned to song-writing, and fiction to get away from everything. Most of the stuff I wrote would make no sense to anyone other than me, and some of it would make no sense at all. It was in my head, and I needed to get rid of it. I also wrote songs, creating harmonies in my head, but never notating them, or playing them in any way. I felt I couldn’t.
If I could relive those days, I never would have given up my faith in music. It took me a few years to realise it, and before long I was doing my music practice again, and listening to CD’s. In 2004 I rejoined choir and orchestra, and started downloading music of the internet, broadening my collection. Green Day was my favourite band since Freddie Mercury, and through them I discovered My Chemical Romance, amoungst many other great bands. I still listen to the music I started out on, only now it’s on iTunes, not tapes or vinyls.
Now I realise music has always been there for me, even though in the past I have denied it. It has moulded who I am, for the better and taught me valuable lessons. Today Green Day remains my favourite band, I sing in choir and barbershop, and play in an orchestra and 3 bands. Music remains my best subject in school, and I know for certain, it will remain with me in the future.