Me, Myself, and Music.

A Big Sister and Rooster Hair.

Whence my love of music, and more specifically my love of the many varieties and derivations thereofrock and roll? Looking back, two figures stand out to me in making me the music-loving fool that I am today. I think the main credit (or blame) must be assigned to my sister, Danna. Danna is nine years older than me, and so, for the portion of my childhood she spent at our house, our interactions were largely limited to me being tickled by her, me telling her to stop tickling me, or me running away from her to avoid being tickled. Those were simpler times. Though I did not know at that time as I do now that she was an entirely wonderful person, I did realize that she was cool, and was up to various cool activities and exercises in her room. This coolness largely consisted in listening to music that my parents didn't like, but which was loud and had drums and grown men singing in unnaturally high caterwauls. In short, it was awesome. There was Van Halen and REO Speedwagon and Journey, but the greatest of these was Zep. Led Zeppelin. The great high priests of rock themselves. And so, my foundation was laid for a future of appreciating great rock and roll music.

After Danna went to college, dark days descended. I wandered in the wilderness for some time. I had a babysitter that listened to Kiss albums, which resulted in the first music of my own that I owned were Kiss albums. Danna tried to warn me that, just because they had guitars and drums didn't mean they were good, but, being young and foolish, I didn't listen. Then, in middle school I began buying albums from Mariah Carey and Paula Abdul and C & C Music Factory. Don't even ask.

I had nearly passed beyond all hope, when fate intervened in the form of a skater-dude named Mike. My friendship with Mike was an unusual one; I was a nerdy kid who competed on the academic team, Mike smoked and had a hairdo that made him look like Rock-a-Doodle, the rock-and-rolling Disney cartoon rooster. However, despite the rock-a-doodle haircut, he still did remarkably well with the ladies.

While I never learned rock-a-doodle's ladykilling secrets, he did introduce me to some music that nearly melted my tenth grade brain. Grunge was just breaking out, and he gave me some tapes with Stone Temple Pilots' Core and, most importantly, Smashing Pumpkins' Siamese Dream on them.

It was as though a door had opened. Suddenly, there was a new world full of interesting, powerful and mind-blowing music to explore that I had no idea existed before. Music that seemed to flow from the artists' honest feelings and not a music company executive's ideas about what would sell well. Music that I connected with on an emotional and instinctive level, that in some way reflected the raw, confused, self-absorbed feelings that, being a good adolescent, I was going through at the time.

By far, Siamese Dream was the album that had the greatest impact on me as I was entering this new world. It absorbed me to the point that I could close my eyes and the only thing in the universe was the sound of layered guitars and pounding drums and Billy Corgan's acid voice alternatively crying plaintively and screaming with rage. Also, it was the first album I had heard that was truly an album and not just a collection of songs, and it carried me along with its flow as it swelled to mighty crescendos and diminished to quiet whispers. Above all, it connected to a certain melancholy side to my temperament as nothing before ever had.

From there, my musical exploration expanded out into the other grunge titans, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, et. al., through Weezer and Beck and eventually into the newer "Indie-rock" sound that I'm into these days. Like all audiophiles, along the way I "discovered" the classics like the Beatles and Hendrix, and re-discovered why my sister loved Zeppelin so much. I'm happy to say that also, along the way, I grew out of a lot of the "angst" and shoe-gazing that dominated most of what I listened to in high school and college and started to appreciate some more joyful sounds.

Though I haven't connected as strongly with any album since my initial Siamese Dream plunge, the joy and excitement of discovering something new and wonderful keeps me buying and listening to a few dozen or so new albums each year. Whether its unearthing old classics like Zeppelin or The Beatles, or discovering a new, little-known artist to enjoy, it's the thrill of finding music with the perfect combination of originality, beauty, and just rocking out that keeps me on the hunt for good tunes year after year.

Another part of the joy of discovering new music has been finding friends who also appreciate the inventive and the mysterious. I would be remiss in not mentioning all my friends, but particularly Travis, Robert, Matt, Ryan, Kim, and, most recently, Zach, for turning me on. . . . to new music, that is.

Also, as a side note, my love for listening to music has certainly been reinforced by my enjoyment of making music, both in singing as part of my faith and in making a more secular noise with the boys in the band back in the day. Nothing helps you realize how hard something is until you try it yourself, and I can certainly appreciate how much work goes into even the simplest song.

What about you? What album was your Siamese Dream (and if you're brave, who was your Mariah Carey or Paula Abdul)? Who was your Danna or Mike that introduced you to a love for music? What artists have endured as your favorites? If music means something to you, why do you think it does?