“What do you love about music?”
“To begin with… everything.”
One of my earliest memories from my childhood revolves around music. I was maybe 5 or 6 sitting in the backseat of my mom’s 2005 Acura MDX, Black Eyed Peas’ Monkey Business CD blasting at full volume, followed up by Fergie’s The Dutchess album—”Big Girls Don’t Cry” was the first song I ever learned all the words to. My life was irrevocably changed.
Fast forward a few years, I was hiding behind the couch with my CD Player, pressing play on Eminem’s Curtain Call: The Hits (Deluxe Edition), when my mother immediately came racing over to stop me. And finally, at age 9, I was gifted my first iPod. It was my prized possession. That same week my parents burned at least 10 CDs for me, from Sheryl Crow, Three Days Grace, and Collective Soul, to Nickelback (I know) and Tears For Fears. I don’t think I took my headphones out for 3 months straight.
Once I hit the 7th grade, from that point forward live music was my heaven. I could watch someone playing on the street for hours, and shortly after I went to my first concert, it felt like I had found my people. And finally, as I entered the dregs of society (high school), I was gifted my father’s record collection. Very much a parallel experience to when William’s older sister in Almost Famous gives him her collection. “Listen to Tommy with a candle burning and you will see your entire future.”
When I look back on the timeline of my life, there truly was never a moment when I didn’t feel connected to music. And today, at nearly 23 years old, that feeling has never wavered nor faltered. This past summer, standing in the middle of hundreds, if not thousands of people at The Backseat Lovers concert, I was in a state of pure bliss. I was in my truest form.
Music is the one language that we all have in common. It’s difficult to put into words, but I once read that if art is how we decorate space, then music is how we decorate time. It’s not solely something we listen to or dance to; it’s how we simultaneously connect and disconnect. How we enter this alternate universe where all our thoughts or feelings—the ones we occasionally find indescribable— are put into a few minutes of perfection and clarity. It allows us to be vulnerable. It’s the most convincing proof, other than love, that magic actually does exist.
Even in its intangible state, the vibrations we feel and the frequencies we hear have this perplexing ability to influence everything within us. The energy center of our bodies become entirely engulfed. Of course, when you scrutinize it through science, the frequencies, dopamine, and neurotransmitters that trigger certain sensations make complete sense, but I just can’t help but think there’s so much more to it. I don’t believe any amount of research or scientific explanation could ever fully elucidate the feeling, or do it justice. Personally, I like it that way.
I could go off on a 3-hour long tangent about music and what it means to me. How before you know it, you wake up at 90 years old and can’t remember what it felt like to have 23-year-old thoughts or a 7-year-old heart, but music reminds you. How it can take you back to exact moments in time. How it can paint pictures in your mind of the faces of archived loves and old friends. How it can heal, and how it can destroy. How it helps us to find beauty in the mundane, and how it finds the words when we can’t.
So, finally, here is a list of 10 songs that remind me there’s such a thing as magic (and some honourable mentions).
- “Bless The Telephone” by Labi Siffre
2. “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” by Bob Dylan
3. “I Found a Reason” by The Velvet Underground
4. “The Ultracheese” by Arctic Monkeys
5. “Missed the Boat” by Modest Mouse
6. “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House
7. “Brother Down” by Sam Roberts Band
8. “Sultans of Swing” by Dire Strait
9. “Hey, Ma” by Bon Iver
10. “Beautiful Girl” by INXS
Honourable Mentions:
“Ab’s Song” by The Marshall Tucker Band
“In Between Days” by The Cure
“Crosshairs” by DANGERDOOM
“Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover” by Sophie B Hawkins
“All My Tomorrows” by Frank Sinatra