Finding out for Myself.

I remember with some fondness a record I had as a kid. It contained several songs from the soundtrack of Pal Joey. Oddly enough I wasn’t all that keen on the music, but I had this older neighbour who liked that sort of thing and he used to unload his unwanted old records on me every now and then. That was fine with me because I had hardly any of my own. Couldn’t afford them. It gave me something to listen to while I explored my reaction to the phenomenon that is music. It also meant that I spent about the first fourteen years of my life listening to other people’s choices, mostly stuff from my parents’ generation, but that was OK for starters.

I made up for lost time eventually, and finding my own taste in music has been a very rewarding experience. I have come to believe that music has a power to move us that no other creative form can. It speaks a universal language and doesn’t need any filters; it goes straight to the heart. I’ve never had any money so it was a slow process, but I believe my appreciation is all the richer for that. A friend who knows my taste sent me the latest album by Julie Fowlis a couple of months ago. I’m not used to receiving gifts, and so it was something unexpected and very special.

Here we go again: the rich kids who have everything handed to them as soon as they think they want it don’t know what they’re missing. And their parents think they’re doing them a favour.