“My father loves music. Wait, as I’m saying this I’m realizing my father loves music as much as he loves sound. It’s my mother who loves music. There’s a huge difference. Let me unpack.”
“There’s the mystique of artists, the unknown, the legend, the fandom, the rituals, and most importantly the sense of wonder that never dies. That’s loving music. Loving music AND sound, well this basically means you aren’t afraid to dissect everything I just mentioned about loving music. The mystique of an artist is great and all, but, what guitar pedal got him to sound that good? Or, what studio did they record in, what mic did they use?
My father built his own home sound system. Between teaching music, running sound for multiple events, playing in bands (he still plays in one), and making sure that I didn’t break anything, he devoted his life to that one thing we all hunt—the perfect home stereo. And, as I’m sure you’ve probably put together, it was my mother who had quite the heavy hand in the vinyl we purchased for our home listening.
All of these things considered I’m sure you can imagine the reality of me being just buried in music as a child. Almost every photo of me growing up is by the turntable or wearing headphones. I was enamored with vinyl. Its size alone could swallow 8 cassettes or possibly 4 of the “new best thing—the compact disc.”