Music

Music has gone through a wild ride in my lifetime. From the mix of folk and rock in my early years to the choice of disco or punk rock in my late teens. Admittedly, I am out of touch with the newer music now because I still enjoy filling my speakers with the music that filled me years ago.

Music has changed so much over the years, but so has the delivery. I am much too young to have owned any 78s, but I have listened to Elton John on records, 8 track tapes, cassettes, CD’s and mp3’s. I also had a collection of 45s that I thoroughly over-played. Sometimes I could only get singles on 45s – they didn’t come out on an album. Other times, I would find gems on the B side. Elton John’s “Philadelphia Freedom” was only available on a 45. The flip side had a duet of him and John Lennon singing “When I Saw Her Standing There”. That 45 was magical.

My Therapy

Music has always been my therapy.

For well over 40 years I have enjoyed putting my headphones on, dialing up a song and singing like no one is listening. My singing volume forced people to listen even when they preferred not to, but I didn’t care (and still don’t) because for those moments or hours, I fall into a wonderful, peaceful world where I am the star just waiting to be discovered.

Like many people, my choice of music would depend on my mood and maybe how tired I was. Whenever I was heading to the cottage with a few friends for a weekend of endless, useless drinking, we would play AC/DC, Led Zeppelin and Van Halen at max volume. On the return trip, while tired and on the early stages of a 2-day hangover, we would play Gordon Lightfoot, America and Harry Chapin with the volume barely audible.

Most of the time I was picking the songs to play, but every so often, a song would pick me out – it needed to send me or people around me a message.

Words

Although I love a great guitar solo and or a calming melody, I love the words in songs. I don’t lean towards songs with just instruments playing. I need to hear the words to capture what is being said. So many times it seems the musician is singing to me, telling me what I need to hear at the right time. I recall the first time I heard Rob Thomas sing “Little Wonders”. The line that hit me was “In the end, we will only just remember how it feels”. I reminded me then that I needed to enjoy and feel life’s adventures, not just fill time between meals.

The most powerful songs that impacted me through my life were not just the songs that spoke to me, but they were the songs that seemed to be speaking for me. These were songs that were strong reflections of the challenges I was going though. It was like they were trying to open my eyes to what was going on around me. In my early years, they also may have tried to help me say what I was too afraid or unable to say.

Smokey’s Message

I got Tears of Clown on a 45 when I was young. I played this song for hours on my little record player when I was 12 or 13. It was a little turntable with only one shitty little speaker – yet it sounded fantastic! Something about Smokey Robinson and Miracles belting out that song grabbed me. It took over 20 years for me to recognize why I loved that song. It was describing me. It was letting me know why I was a joker, a prankster… a clown.

It was so easy to see the light or funny side of things – and it still is. My wife gets annoyed at me when I poke fun at something she is trying to lecture me about. I can easily twist things around and find irony where it didn’t seem to exist. I have no problem pointing out the funny when the funny is there. I’ll make fun at others, but I also have no problem making fun of things I say and do. I do it now because I know it makes people feel good and I simply like doing it. It’s a nice remnant from emotional growth because when I did it back in my teens and 20s, it wasn’t only for fun… it was for protection too.

It wasn’t until my mid-to-late teens that I even identified any emotions. I saw a social worker named Carl deLottinville for four years. Up until then whatever I was feeling was just a bunch of stuff churning within. I didn’t even identify this stuff as feelings. The communication layer tapping within me was thin and ineffective.

It was easier to mask the mess with a smile and some jokes than to reveal it to anyone. Through my teens the internal pressure increased and the emotional mess did surface in many ways (drinking, drugs, suicide attempts). Yet, when I was able, I would beat it back with a laugh.

This song was also trying to tell others what was going on with me, even I didn’t recognize it. Being completely out of touch with my emotions when I was in my early teens made me unable to recognize the significance of my attraction to Tears of a Clown. Even if I was able, I would have been too afraid to open up to anyone. Yet the fact that I was playing and singing this song so much should have been an indication to people around me how I was feeling. In this situation, the song was trying to speak for me, not just to me. To no one’s fault, the message wasn’t heard.

Music’s Voice

Music has been and will always be a form of therapy for me and it is a very powerful communication device. I pay attention to what music my children and wife are listening, not to censor them, but just to look for any messages hidden in the songs of choice. I also pay attention to whatever song is grabbing me at the moment – just in case there is something within the song that I really need to hear.

What songs spoke through you?

What songs are speaking to you through your kids?

What songs are speaking through you now?