Play That Funky Music, White Boy

You know what? I blog a lot about music! I blog occasionally about my family, my geekdom, baseball, other forms of entertainment, and religion. I almost never blog about politics. But music seems to dominate this space.


Certainly not because I am a musician. I never could play an instrument. I took piano lessons, attempted to play the bass guitar after receiving one for Christmas, bought and briefly goofed around with a guitar, tried to learn the harmonica with the help of a Klutz book… I guess I just don’t have it. So that’s not it.

It is not because I have a deep knowledge about all things musical. I don’t know music theory or history. I am no smarter than anyone else when it comes to music. No one in the world seeks my musical wisdom. So that’s probably not it either.

I guess it is just because I love music. Maybe it’s even more than just a love – it is a connection. My life has an ever-evolving soundtrack. Every moment of my life has certain artists or songs or musical genres attached to it. It is in my DNA – intrinsically part of who I am.

Growing up, my father exposed me and my brother to all kinds of music; everything from the Delta Blues, to Motown, to Rock & Roll, to Outlaw Country, and a plethora of other stuff in between. We didn’t think that was strange – we thought it was normal. What I find strange is when I run across people who don’t really listen to music. I can’t even comprehend that! And I am discovering that it is actually more common than I originally dreamed possible. Personally I can’t imagine life without music!

I guess that’s why my tastes are all over the place. My iPod looks like an old record store had a clearance sale and I just bought whatever I could get my hands on. But I like it all – and it always seems like there are a hundred or so more that I really want and don’t have yet.

Many of my musical loves can be traced back to specific times in my life – I might even be able to explain why for some of them. I can’t listen to Tori Amos without reminiscing about a specific friend I made in college that we called “Colgate”. I can’t hear Dr. Hook without remembering the garage that my dad turned into a family room and the component stereo that took up a good portion of the wall. The U2 song Sunday Bloody Sunday conjures up images of the time I spent at Church Camp in my youth. Uncle Tupelo makes me remember the time I lived alone, between marriages, lonely and afraid. Everything and everyone seems to be linked in my brain to a song, a musician, an album… something musical.

In fact, later this week, I am dedicating my Five on Friday post to when a very pivotal moment in my life intersected with a very pivotal time in music history. Intrigued? You should be!

Check back on Friday & see what I’m up to!



2 thoughts on “Play That Funky Music, White Boy

  1. I know exactly what you are talking about. Granted I would probably still be considered somewhat of an “infant” in my musical tastes, but I find myself quite often relating situations, people, relationships, etc. to songs, albums or artists. One in particular is when 9/11 happened. I remember waking up that morning and NOT turning on the tv or radio because it was the release date for P.O.D,.’s new albums “Satellite.” I wanted that album to be the first thing I really listened to. All of that changed when I arrived at Walmart (I worked there at the time) and my department manager told me what had happened and I watched it unfold on the tvs in the electronics department. That album became anthemic to me at that time as it seemed every song song spoke to what I was feeling that day. Still to this day when I listen to anything from that album the whole day replays in my mind.

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