T-Bird
When I was a child, maybe 5 or so, my mother used to drive us around town in a T-bird. With the top down, the wind in our hair, and the radio blaring. To everyone around us my mother was unseemly as she flaunted herself (and me) in this huge boat of a car, down packed downtown residential streets. To my mother, we were free spirits, cruising the streets of Memphis in search of adventure.
My time with my mother and the T-bird are the happiest memories from my entire childhood. Not because of the time that she and I spent together. But because of the music. That car was my mobile sound booth. As each song came on the radio, I'd quickly began to sing every word and note. If the song was a new release, I'd learn it as quickly as possible so I'd be ready the next time it played. This whole process quickly became a game with us. A game to see if I could name the song before my mother, and then sing it (as perfectly as 5-year old me could). My mother couldn't sing a note to save her life, so she was happy to show off my talent to others instead of playing the game herself. I didn't know it at the time, but my time in the T-bird was the beginning of my love affair with music.
As I grew older, music - in any form - was one of the only ways I was allowed to express myself. If I was feeling down I'd play Rainy Days and Mondays (The Carpenters). Suffer a breakup? Hopelessly Devoted to You (Olivia Newton John) or Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue (Crystal Gayle). I won't make you suffer through the music of the 1970s, just picture me with my headphones on, cranking up the volume, and letting the music envelop me.
As a college student studying music (vocal and classical piano performance), I discovered jazz music. I came from a world where I played exactly what was on the page, nothing more or less. Jazz opened up other kinds of music to me, like Swahili chants, overtone singing, and folk music. I could get lost in the music for hours or days on end. And I did.
But I never got lost on those rides in the T-bird. The beginning of sound for me. Where I found my first love, my voice, and myself.
My time with my mother and the T-bird are the happiest memories from my entire childhood. Not because of the time that she and I spent together. But because of the music. That car was my mobile sound booth. As each song came on the radio, I'd quickly began to sing every word and note. If the song was a new release, I'd learn it as quickly as possible so I'd be ready the next time it played. This whole process quickly became a game with us. A game to see if I could name the song before my mother, and then sing it (as perfectly as 5-year old me could). My mother couldn't sing a note to save her life, so she was happy to show off my talent to others instead of playing the game herself. I didn't know it at the time, but my time in the T-bird was the beginning of my love affair with music.
As I grew older, music - in any form - was one of the only ways I was allowed to express myself. If I was feeling down I'd play Rainy Days and Mondays (The Carpenters). Suffer a breakup? Hopelessly Devoted to You (Olivia Newton John) or Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue (Crystal Gayle). I won't make you suffer through the music of the 1970s, just picture me with my headphones on, cranking up the volume, and letting the music envelop me.
As a college student studying music (vocal and classical piano performance), I discovered jazz music. I came from a world where I played exactly what was on the page, nothing more or less. Jazz opened up other kinds of music to me, like Swahili chants, overtone singing, and folk music. I could get lost in the music for hours or days on end. And I did.
But I never got lost on those rides in the T-bird. The beginning of sound for me. Where I found my first love, my voice, and myself.
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