Life as a Soundtrack

Chronological musings on the music that has changed my life, thus far. Bare witness to evolution of my taste in music and perspective on life.
The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  Ninth post: I’m awestruck and genuinely changed forever upon learning of the greatness of Classic Rock and true lead guitarists. Led Zeppelin, et al. By the end of middle school, I was stuck. After exposing myself to a great many pop-punk groups, I became more and more disenchanted with the contemporary bands MTV and Vh1 were pumping out. It wasn’t like I didn’t appreciate them, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was missing out on a crucial piece of music. Around this time, I had been dabbling in the guitar (as people on the brink of starting high school typically do), though I found the repetition in the songs I was playing fairly obvious. The chord progressions were easy, and I could only do so much until I got bored of playing the songs (note I hadn’t been seriously singing at this point). Not only that, but my equipment was lackluster (an old yamaha starter amp and a non-strat stratocaster that had shit strings that whined every time I slid over them, and don’t even get my started on the pickups). In short, I needed a fix, something that would enchant me into continuing guitar, and hopefully help me see the beauty of the six strings. This meant breaking free from pop-rock/punk music and venturing into a class of music that got its roots from the heart and soul of the art: blues and jazz. The structures weren’t so inherent anymore, nothing necessarily made sense, at least at first glance. It wasn’t predictable, but that’s what made it exciting. The thought of improvisation and soloing blew my mind open to the idea of feeling what I was playing, and not playing something down to the notes. I got this mostly from Led Zeppelin, though other bands are of note (AC/DC, Lynyrd Skynrd, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple… just think of 70s rock music, anti-disco and pre-hair metal). These guys were pure musicians; their biggest draw was their prowess in playing collaboratively. They didn’t seek fame or glamour or money, they played music because it was something that made sense to them. Epic jams, sweeping soundscapes, driving blues rhythms, soaring vocals, hooks that could make you bob your head, and solos that genuinely shook your entire body. There was a passion in each song that seems to evoke connectedness to the band members, the listener, and the universe.  Some part of me wanted to be in tune with the universe just as they were. I recall watching “The Song Remains the Same,” an amazing concert of Led Zeppelin, and wanting so badly to be able to emulate his playing style, violin bow and all. There was something so out there, despite the fact that he made it look intrinsic. To have that kind of control and chaos meld into one is simply amazing. And if I had a penny for every time I would try to replicate or improvise the solo for “Stairway to Heaven,” I’d have to go to the bank. Don’t even get me started on how many times I’ve played the riff for “Black Dog” and jammed over “Since I’ve Been Loving You.” The spirit of the music just permeates from every song, there’s no way to describe it and still do it proper justice. I guess, you’ll just have to listen.  Last, Zeppelin was a big influence on me in the sense that I became quite obsessed with the unorthodox method of lead guitarist Jimmy Page. His ability to match his virtuosity and pure instinct with lead singer Robert Plant’s charisma and vocals is a marriage made in classic rock heaven. If he wanted, he could go off on a solo tangent for periods that lasted longer than the actual song while still being able to keep you engaged and awestruck. He went places that no one really knew you could go with guitar, thanks to his diverse use of effects and his signature guitar sound, full and cutting while still managing to remain melodic. Though I never really seemed to grasp his technique for my own due to my own limitations as a guitarist, I have immense respect for him as an innovator and pioneer of epic rock.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

Ninth post: I’m awestruck and genuinely changed forever upon learning of the greatness of Classic Rock and true lead guitarists.

Led Zeppelin, et al.

By the end of middle school, I was stuck. After exposing myself to a great many pop-punk groups, I became more and more disenchanted with the contemporary bands MTV and Vh1 were pumping out. It wasn’t like I didn’t appreciate them, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was missing out on a crucial piece of music. Around this time, I had been dabbling in the guitar (as people on the brink of starting high school typically do), though I found the repetition in the songs I was playing fairly obvious. The chord progressions were easy, and I could only do so much until I got bored of playing the songs (note I hadn’t been seriously singing at this point). Not only that, but my equipment was lackluster (an old yamaha starter amp and a non-strat stratocaster that had shit strings that whined every time I slid over them, and don’t even get my started on the pickups).

In short, I needed a fix, something that would enchant me into continuing guitar, and hopefully help me see the beauty of the six strings. This meant breaking free from pop-rock/punk music and venturing into a class of music that got its roots from the heart and soul of the art: blues and jazz. The structures weren’t so inherent anymore, nothing necessarily made sense, at least at first glance. It wasn’t predictable, but that’s what made it exciting. The thought of improvisation and soloing blew my mind open to the idea of feeling what I was playing, and not playing something down to the notes.

I got this mostly from Led Zeppelin, though other bands are of note (AC/DC, Lynyrd Skynrd, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple… just think of 70s rock music, anti-disco and pre-hair metal). These guys were pure musicians; their biggest draw was their prowess in playing collaboratively. They didn’t seek fame or glamour or money, they played music because it was something that made sense to them. Epic jams, sweeping soundscapes, driving blues rhythms, soaring vocals, hooks that could make you bob your head, and solos that genuinely shook your entire body. There was a passion in each song that seems to evoke connectedness to the band members, the listener, and the universe. 

Some part of me wanted to be in tune with the universe just as they were. I recall watching “The Song Remains the Same,” an amazing concert of Led Zeppelin, and wanting so badly to be able to emulate his playing style, violin bow and all. There was something so out there, despite the fact that he made it look intrinsic. To have that kind of control and chaos meld into one is simply amazing. And if I had a penny for every time I would try to replicate or improvise the solo for “Stairway to Heaven,” I’d have to go to the bank. Don’t even get me started on how many times I’ve played the riff for “Black Dog” and jammed over “Since I’ve Been Loving You.” The spirit of the music just permeates from every song, there’s no way to describe it and still do it proper justice. I guess, you’ll just have to listen. 

Last, Zeppelin was a big influence on me in the sense that I became quite obsessed with the unorthodox method of lead guitarist Jimmy Page. His ability to match his virtuosity and pure instinct with lead singer Robert Plant’s charisma and vocals is a marriage made in classic rock heaven. If he wanted, he could go off on a solo tangent for periods that lasted longer than the actual song while still being able to keep you engaged and awestruck. He went places that no one really knew you could go with guitar, thanks to his diverse use of effects and his signature guitar sound, full and cutting while still managing to remain melodic. Though I never really seemed to grasp his technique for my own due to my own limitations as a guitarist, I have immense respect for him as an innovator and pioneer of epic rock.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  Eighth post: I trade in Linkin Park for something with slightly more dulcet tones, all in the name of pop punk. New Found Glory, Sticks and Stones Contemporaneous with my mini-obsession with Linkin Park, I needed another music outlet with a slightly more positive vibe. Let’s face it, I wasn’t going to wallow in my anger and sadness all day, there had to be some positive reinforcement for me to fall back on. Enter New Found Glory, a pop punk band from Florida that caught my attention with their single “My Friends Over You,”  which my sister had playing one day (4 and counting).  What drew me to their sound was how energetic and lively each of their songs could be, even their ballad-esque ones. The pleas or declarations found in their choruses are candid; the musical hooks are just plain catchy. While the lyrics are straightforward (no metaphors or allegories here, folks) they’re effective and the words complement the music perfectly. At this time in my life, I was a pre-teen enamored with romanticized idea of love, and my pubescent angst was in full swing. It wasn’t like I hated the world or anything, it was more about me declaring my own existence in the most vicarious way. Their songs gave me a unique energy, and with each of these songs, whether or not I saw it at the time, I realized that I was looking for something meaningful in life. Furthermore, their music arguably encouraged me to a better person, in the sense that I wanted to be more sympathetic, confident, assertive, and noteworthy in the face of the unrequited affection, reinforcement of the Asian stereotypes by my peers, fears of being alone, and feeling overprotected by my parents. In some ways, this album represents sincerity and a certain degree of relatability regardless of your current psychological state. At one time in your life, it’s more than likely that you’ve been lovesick, inadequate, or annoyed, so there’s a good chance that you’ll line up with this album to some effect. Eventually I would get into other similar bands of the pop-rock-emo persuasion, namely Sugarcult (“Bouncing Off The Walls”), blink-182, (“Feelin’ This”), Brand New, (“Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows”), and Sum 41 (“Still Waiting”) to name a few. But in the end, New Found Glory resonates as my first pop-punk band, which probably explains why I seem to gravitate towards them the most. They mean a great deal more to me than I’ve cared to realize, which compels me to get back into them, since they’ve already produced 3 or 4 albums after I had moved on to other music interests. I don’t know, I feel like it’d be nice to explore how they’ve progressed today, it’s been 10 years after all.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

Eighth post: I trade in Linkin Park for something with slightly more dulcet tones, all in the name of pop punk.

New Found Glory, Sticks and Stones

Contemporaneous with my mini-obsession with Linkin Park, I needed another music outlet with a slightly more positive vibe. Let’s face it, I wasn’t going to wallow in my anger and sadness all day, there had to be some positive reinforcement for me to fall back on. Enter New Found Glory, a pop punk band from Florida that caught my attention with their single “My Friends Over You,”  which my sister had playing one day (4 and counting). 

What drew me to their sound was how energetic and lively each of their songs could be, even their ballad-esque ones. The pleas or declarations found in their choruses are candid; the musical hooks are just plain catchy. While the lyrics are straightforward (no metaphors or allegories here, folks) they’re effective and the words complement the music perfectly. At this time in my life, I was a pre-teen enamored with romanticized idea of love, and my pubescent angst was in full swing. It wasn’t like I hated the world or anything, it was more about me declaring my own existence in the most vicarious way. Their songs gave me a unique energy, and with each of these songs, whether or not I saw it at the time, I realized that I was looking for something meaningful in life.

Furthermore, their music arguably encouraged me to a better person, in the sense that I wanted to be more sympathetic, confident, assertive, and noteworthy in the face of the unrequited affection, reinforcement of the Asian stereotypes by my peers, fears of being alone, and feeling overprotected by my parents. In some ways, this album represents sincerity and a certain degree of relatability regardless of your current psychological state. At one time in your life, it’s more than likely that you’ve been lovesick, inadequate, or annoyed, so there’s a good chance that you’ll line up with this album to some effect.

Eventually I would get into other similar bands of the pop-rock-emo persuasion, namely Sugarcult (“Bouncing Off The Walls”), blink-182, (“Feelin’ This”), Brand New, (“Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows”), and Sum 41 (“Still Waiting”) to name a few. But in the end, New Found Glory resonates as my first pop-punk band, which probably explains why I seem to gravitate towards them the most. They mean a great deal more to me than I’ve cared to realize, which compels me to get back into them, since they’ve already produced 3 or 4 albums after I had moved on to other music interests. I don’t know, I feel like it’d be nice to explore how they’ve progressed today, it’s been 10 years after all.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  For my seventh post, I become enamored with my so-called “gateway band,” whose career has evolved tremendously, seemingly in parallel with my changing tastes. Linkin Park, Hybrid Theory There was a time between 2nd grade and 6th grade when I seriously didn’t care for music. Well, besides the stuff we’d do in concert band or the songs I learned from my piano instructor. But even then, I wasn’t exactly clamoring to do more with the music I was learning. As much as I’d like to document how that music changed my life, I don’t think I would do it justice as I only really remember certain hooks from various songs. I don’t deny that it served as a very positive foundation in my musical life, although I don’t want to blow smoke up my own ass… …which brings me to my next musical influence: Linkin Park. In 6th grade, age 11, I was thrust back into the music world by these guys, my so-called “gateway band.” And yes, my sister got me interested in them (3 and counting). Just as marijuana is a gateway drug, leading to other drugs of more intense or potent effects, Linkin Park is my gateway band, which has lead me to discovering a vast array of bands, not only in my middle school days, but also my current tastes. It’s hard to believe this today, since the heavy-metal screamo-rock-rap music that made them famous is pretty far from what I gravitate towards now, but to their credit they’ve come quite far themselves.  In retrospect, I guess what drew me to their music was their mix of different elements of music (rap, rock, metal, sampling), which all seemed to work in an unlikely harmony of abrasive sounds that combined into appealing music. Their debut album Hybrid Theory was sort of cool to me; it was some sort of radical idea or manifesto, with which I could attack the silence that I was normally content with. After all, being shy and introverted throughout my childhood took its toll, often leading to being stereotyped and judged by my peers. Their songs “In The End” and “A Place For My Head” seemed to me a quiet, albeit passive aggressive, rebellion that perfectly characterizes my adolesecent brooding. Unrequited love, discovering that life was unfair, taking on unwanted responsibilities, being ridiculed for being on the smarter side, wanting to be left alone, experiencing embarassment from my family… in a life when I didn’t feel very much in control, I controlled my emotional output through this album. In truth, the band served as my therapy in a time when I thought the world was against me and my happiness. Over time, I would come to my senses and change my attitudes in life; similarly they would progress in their sound. Their music became less about noise and cutting riffs, and more about textures and subtle soundscapes. Their lyrical content shifted significantly, from being hurt and tormented to being socially conscious and advocacy.  The significance of Hybrid Theory in my life is one of awakening. Having been jaded with music since the boy band phenomenon, I saw in this album a chance to start in a new direction, with an emphasis on rock bands of all types, in order to channel my life through the music. I immersed myself in similarly loud, heavy/nu-metal bands at this time, namely Puddle of Mudd, Breaking Benjamin, Finch, and System of a Down, among others, but eventually I would get tired of living life vicariously through music that consisted largely of screaming/yelling and chords that droned in minors and drop-D. I do appreciate the emotion that bands like these and early Linkin Park could capture, often bordering on anger, frustration, and melancholy.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

For my seventh post, I become enamored with my so-called “gateway band,” whose career has evolved tremendously, seemingly in parallel with my changing tastes.

Linkin Park, Hybrid Theory

There was a time between 2nd grade and 6th grade when I seriously didn’t care for music. Well, besides the stuff we’d do in concert band or the songs I learned from my piano instructor. But even then, I wasn’t exactly clamoring to do more with the music I was learning. As much as I’d like to document how that music changed my life, I don’t think I would do it justice as I only really remember certain hooks from various songs. I don’t deny that it served as a very positive foundation in my musical life, although I don’t want to blow smoke up my own ass…

…which brings me to my next musical influence: Linkin Park. In 6th grade, age 11, I was thrust back into the music world by these guys, my so-called “gateway band.” And yes, my sister got me interested in them (3 and counting). Just as marijuana is a gateway drug, leading to other drugs of more intense or potent effects, Linkin Park is my gateway band, which has lead me to discovering a vast array of bands, not only in my middle school days, but also my current tastes. It’s hard to believe this today, since the heavy-metal screamo-rock-rap music that made them famous is pretty far from what I gravitate towards now, but to their credit they’ve come quite far themselves. 

In retrospect, I guess what drew me to their music was their mix of different elements of music (rap, rock, metal, sampling), which all seemed to work in an unlikely harmony of abrasive sounds that combined into appealing music. Their debut album Hybrid Theory was sort of cool to me; it was some sort of radical idea or manifesto, with which I could attack the silence that I was normally content with. After all, being shy and introverted throughout my childhood took its toll, often leading to being stereotyped and judged by my peers. Their songs “In The End” and “A Place For My Head” seemed to me a quiet, albeit passive aggressive, rebellion that perfectly characterizes my adolesecent brooding. Unrequited love, discovering that life was unfair, taking on unwanted responsibilities, being ridiculed for being on the smarter side, wanting to be left alone, experiencing embarassment from my family… in a life when I didn’t feel very much in control, I controlled my emotional output through this album. In truth, the band served as my therapy in a time when I thought the world was against me and my happiness. Over time, I would come to my senses and change my attitudes in life; similarly they would progress in their sound. Their music became less about noise and cutting riffs, and more about textures and subtle soundscapes. Their lyrical content shifted significantly, from being hurt and tormented to being socially conscious and advocacy. 

The significance of Hybrid Theory in my life is one of awakening. Having been jaded with music since the boy band phenomenon, I saw in this album a chance to start in a new direction, with an emphasis on rock bands of all types, in order to channel my life through the music. I immersed myself in similarly loud, heavy/nu-metal bands at this time, namely Puddle of Mudd, Breaking Benjamin, Finch, and System of a Down, among others, but eventually I would get tired of living life vicariously through music that consisted largely of screaming/yelling and chords that droned in minors and drop-D. I do appreciate the emotion that bands like these and early Linkin Park could capture, often bordering on anger, frustration, and melancholy.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  For my sixth post: Boy bands. Yeah, but no. *N SYNC / Backstreet Boys With my exposure to MTV, just on the heels of Hanson’s waning popularity, came my interest into the music boy bands. What’s that? My sister’s the one that got me into them (2 and counting)? To be honest, I think it began innocently on Disney Channel, where I remember *N SYNC had a special hour-long concert broadcast literally every other day. It was sort of a big deal, they performed their entire debut album like it was nothing, and everyone ate it up accordingly, myself included. This brought me more over to MTV, where they were eventually given more coverage, along with their counterparts and future labelmates, the Backstreet Boys. Aside from being on TRL, every other thing that was mentioned on MTV revolved around these 10 men, almost relentlessly. Basically, if there was ever a time to enjoy pop music from a well-oiled, manufactured music machine, it was then, and it was them. The music videos each boy band put out continued to fascinate me without fail. Each one was more outlandish and lavish than the next, but most notably I remember BSB’s “Everybody (Rock Your Body)” and *N SYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye.”   And therein lies the rub. With each video I began to realize that I was more concerned with what new cool aesthetic they would come up with and less worried about more crucial matters, like the content of their music or the relevancy of what I was seeing correlated to what I was hearing. In essence, their look became more important to me than their sound. It was more appealing to me that they exuded confidence and had an attitude. But what they were singing about? I never really thought to question what or why they were singing what they were singing. When I look back on it now, sure their songs were catchy and I could sing your ear off, but I can’t help but feel like my passion for music lessened during this time. I wasn’t looking for deeper meanings, I was looking to be entertained and saw things at face value. Don’t get me wrong, I get what their music represents now; it’s catchy, it sells, it’s easy and romanticizes ideas of fame and fortune while singing one-dimensionally about love and other drugs. I can appreciate it for what it is and can bear a listen every now and then for nostalgia’s sake, but now it’s just not what I look for in music. In a way, I see how it affected me growing up. I was drawn to appearances and thought of things superficially, never really thinking to go deeper than what was on the surface. I was a naive boy who automatically assumed that love was at work when (a) a girl showed him attention or (b) when he thought a girl was pretty. It also made learning easier for me I guess; I didn’t critically question so much as memorize things and trust that my instructors were giving me the truth (which helped a ton in elementary, when you think about what you do in primary school). And it’s not even like boy bands are to blame; the manner in which I was consuming all of this new music was different to me, dangerous. It was assumed that I wanted certain things, as a consumer of music, and I obliged that assumption of my own volition. I could have just as easily refused to become so enamored with the boy band craze, but for the life of me I could not. I clearly wanted different things at that age, perhaps to be more like them insofar as their confidence and the attention they were getting. Maybe that’s a little to psychoanalytical, but it’s an interesting thought. Bottom line, this was a regression for me, a time when I didn’t really know why I liked what I liked and when music became less of a passion and more of something trivial to accompany cool visuals.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

For my sixth post: Boy bands. Yeah, but no.

*N SYNC / Backstreet Boys

With my exposure to MTV, just on the heels of Hanson’s waning popularity, came my interest into the music boy bands. What’s that? My sister’s the one that got me into them (2 and counting)? To be honest, I think it began innocently on Disney Channel, where I remember *N SYNC had a special hour-long concert broadcast literally every other day. It was sort of a big deal, they performed their entire debut album like it was nothing, and everyone ate it up accordingly, myself included.

This brought me more over to MTV, where they were eventually given more coverage, along with their counterparts and future labelmates, the Backstreet Boys. Aside from being on TRL, every other thing that was mentioned on MTV revolved around these 10 men, almost relentlessly. Basically, if there was ever a time to enjoy pop music from a well-oiled, manufactured music machine, it was then, and it was them. The music videos each boy band put out continued to fascinate me without fail. Each one was more outlandish and lavish than the next, but most notably I remember BSB’s “Everybody (Rock Your Body)” and *N SYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye.”  

And therein lies the rub. With each video I began to realize that I was more concerned with what new cool aesthetic they would come up with and less worried about more crucial matters, like the content of their music or the relevancy of what I was seeing correlated to what I was hearing. In essence, their look became more important to me than their sound. It was more appealing to me that they exuded confidence and had an attitude. But what they were singing about? I never really thought to question what or why they were singing what they were singing. When I look back on it now, sure their songs were catchy and I could sing your ear off, but I can’t help but feel like my passion for music lessened during this time. I wasn’t looking for deeper meanings, I was looking to be entertained and saw things at face value. Don’t get me wrong, I get what their music represents now; it’s catchy, it sells, it’s easy and romanticizes ideas of fame and fortune while singing one-dimensionally about love and other drugs. I can appreciate it for what it is and can bear a listen every now and then for nostalgia’s sake, but now it’s just not what I look for in music.

In a way, I see how it affected me growing up. I was drawn to appearances and thought of things superficially, never really thinking to go deeper than what was on the surface. I was a naive boy who automatically assumed that love was at work when (a) a girl showed him attention or (b) when he thought a girl was pretty. It also made learning easier for me I guess; I didn’t critically question so much as memorize things and trust that my instructors were giving me the truth (which helped a ton in elementary, when you think about what you do in primary school). And it’s not even like boy bands are to blame; the manner in which I was consuming all of this new music was different to me, dangerous. It was assumed that I wanted certain things, as a consumer of music, and I obliged that assumption of my own volition. I could have just as easily refused to become so enamored with the boy band craze, but for the life of me I could not. I clearly wanted different things at that age, perhaps to be more like them insofar as their confidence and the attention they were getting. Maybe that’s a little to psychoanalytical, but it’s an interesting thought. Bottom line, this was a regression for me, a time when I didn’t really know why I liked what I liked and when music became less of a passion and more of something trivial to accompany cool visuals.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  For my fifth post: a band that everyone got sick of due being overplayed and getting too popular too fast. Hanson, “MMMBop” Hanson. That’s right. Hanson. Like a dirty word that no one will admit to knowing about or admitting liked before. Trust me, you liked them, even for a second secretly. Hanson. Fortunately, I did too. And you know what? For what they were (and are; they’re still active, by the way) they’re not half bad. For any music you listen to, it’s important that you’re in the right frame of mind. You wouldn’t read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy expecting Heart of Darkness. That said, you wouldn’t listen to feel-good pop Hanson (I see you shuddering) and expect to hear dystopian alt-space rock Muse (but that’s another blog).  It should go without saying that, for the most part, my music preferences throughout my life have been guided by factors out of my control: my sister, my friends, the things that I watched on TV or movies, or just plain serendipity. In this case, it was my sister who got me into them, which is something that you should get used to hearing (1 and counting). I’m fairly sure I was introduced to themprimarily via MTV, when they were still doing TRL and Carson Daly was holed up in the black room of nothingness showing teenagers music videos. Weird right? No, completely normal. Anyway, I digress. The catchiness of their claim to fame song “MMMBop” may be equated today to Rebecca Black and “Friday,” but trust, it holds up much more and has some integrity musically, as evidenced in the acoustic version. The issues that befell Hanson are also similar to Rebecca Black’s woes, namely getting too popular too fast, which led to them being dubbed one-hit wonders after their second record didn’t measure up to their debut in the eyes of critics and fans. I admit sharing in some of the backlash against their music in the years that followed, but at the time, and to some degree still today, I enjoyed them for the fact that they made catchy pop music and a weird video where they sing on the walls of a revolving room and underwater in a subway car. Thankfully, they’re still doing their thing today, hanging out just below the radar for their loyal fans and making music for the joy of it.  So where did that leave me? In short, I was exposed to the likes of MTV because of these boys. For better or worse, this exposure would change my life in terms of how I consumed and appreciated music (and all the other crap that came with viewing MTV). I also gained a new-found appreciation for bands, something that I only dabbled in with The Eagles. Deep down, I was intrigued by the idea of learning an instrument, but I wasn’t quite at the point where I was really driven to do so. Some time after this, I was enrolled in piano lessons that, regrettably, I didn’t appreciate until after I stopped in late high school.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

For my fifth post: a band that everyone got sick of due being overplayed and getting too popular too fast.

Hanson, “MMMBop”

Hanson. That’s right. Hanson. Like a dirty word that no one will admit to knowing about or admitting liked before. Trust me, you liked them, even for a second secretly. Hanson. Fortunately, I did too. And you know what? For what they were (and are; they’re still active, by the way) they’re not half bad. For any music you listen to, it’s important that you’re in the right frame of mind. You wouldn’t read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy expecting Heart of Darkness. That said, you wouldn’t listen to feel-good pop Hanson (I see you shuddering) and expect to hear dystopian alt-space rock Muse (but that’s another blog). 

It should go without saying that, for the most part, my music preferences throughout my life have been guided by factors out of my control: my sister, my friends, the things that I watched on TV or movies, or just plain serendipity. In this case, it was my sister who got me into them, which is something that you should get used to hearing (1 and counting). I’m fairly sure I was introduced to themprimarily via MTV, when they were still doing TRL and Carson Daly was holed up in the black room of nothingness showing teenagers music videos. Weird right? No, completely normal.

Anyway, I digress. The catchiness of their claim to fame song “MMMBop” may be equated today to Rebecca Black and “Friday,” but trust, it holds up much more and has some integrity musically, as evidenced in the acoustic version. The issues that befell Hanson are also similar to Rebecca Black’s woes, namely getting too popular too fast, which led to them being dubbed one-hit wonders after their second record didn’t measure up to their debut in the eyes of critics and fans. I admit sharing in some of the backlash against their music in the years that followed, but at the time, and to some degree still today, I enjoyed them for the fact that they made catchy pop music and a weird video where they sing on the walls of a revolving room and underwater in a subway car. Thankfully, they’re still doing their thing today, hanging out just below the radar for their loyal fans and making music for the joy of it. 

So where did that leave me? In short, I was exposed to the likes of MTV because of these boys. For better or worse, this exposure would change my life in terms of how I consumed and appreciated music (and all the other crap that came with viewing MTV). I also gained a new-found appreciation for bands, something that I only dabbled in with The Eagles. Deep down, I was intrigued by the idea of learning an instrument, but I wasn’t quite at the point where I was really driven to do so. Some time after this, I was enrolled in piano lessons that, regrettably, I didn’t appreciate until after I stopped in late high school.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  For my fourth post, a childhood movie’s soundtrack gives me another reason to be a divo. R. Kelly, “I Believe I Can Fly” I have fond memories of elementary school (pleasant and simple, compared to those of junior high and high school), so it comes as no surprise that music played a part in that all-too-fleeting fondness.  Let’s face it: Space Jam was part of your childhood too. If you were anything like me, you watched NBA basketball on NBC all the time, and probably worshipped Michael Jordan and the 90s Chicago Bulls. So, as part of this profound love of arguably one of the greatest men to play the game, I dragged my parents (or vice versa, they were big Jordan fans as well, but who wasn’t at that time?) to the movies to see his feature film debut. Say what you want about the film, haters, and let me soak in my nostalgia. It’d be a crime not to love the Looney Tunes, no? In any case, I see the movie for what it is now, which is a zany attempt by Warner Brothers to milk anything and everything out of Jordan’s high-profile career cash cow, but I can put that aside because it is something that I enjoyed as a youngin. One of the things that continues to draw me to this film (and what led me to buy its soundtrack immediately after having seen it) is the penultimate song, which, of all things, accompanies Jordan’s return from the Looney Tunes world, just in time for his game as one of Chicago White Sox. That song: “I Believe I Can Fly” by R. Kelly. Yet another song that my mom claims I’d sing throughout my youth, Kelly’s song served as a genuine source of happiness for me growing up. Much like past ballads that I’ve mentioned in the blog, this song builds and builds until its triumphant conclusion, gospel chorus / orchestration and all. It’s spine-tingling in a good way, something that you always anticipate but feel the rush regardless. For some time, maybe in first or second grade, I always came back to it as one of my favorite songs. However, now that I think about it, the song still holds up today for me. Perhaps its the simple yet inspirational message it conveys. Or maybe it reminds me of Ariel Rivera and Whitney Houston, only it was more relevant at the time, what with my dreams of becoming a professional basketball player or something else extravagant. Or maybe it’s because it’s from Space Jam. Either way, it’s something worth noting.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

For my fourth post, a childhood movie’s soundtrack gives me another reason to be a divo.

R. Kelly, “I Believe I Can Fly”

I have fond memories of elementary school (pleasant and simple, compared to those of junior high and high school), so it comes as no surprise that music played a part in that all-too-fleeting fondness. 

Let’s face it: Space Jam was part of your childhood too. If you were anything like me, you watched NBA basketball on NBC all the time, and probably worshipped Michael Jordan and the 90s Chicago Bulls. So, as part of this profound love of arguably one of the greatest men to play the game, I dragged my parents (or vice versa, they were big Jordan fans as well, but who wasn’t at that time?) to the movies to see his feature film debut. Say what you want about the film, haters, and let me soak in my nostalgia. It’d be a crime not to love the Looney Tunes, no? In any case, I see the movie for what it is now, which is a zany attempt by Warner Brothers to milk anything and everything out of Jordan’s high-profile career cash cow, but I can put that aside because it is something that I enjoyed as a youngin.

One of the things that continues to draw me to this film (and what led me to buy its soundtrack immediately after having seen it) is the penultimate song, which, of all things, accompanies Jordan’s return from the Looney Tunes world, just in time for his game as one of Chicago White Sox. That song: “I Believe I Can Fly” by R. Kelly. Yet another song that my mom claims I’d sing throughout my youth, Kelly’s song served as a genuine source of happiness for me growing up. Much like past ballads that I’ve mentioned in the blog, this song builds and builds until its triumphant conclusion, gospel chorus / orchestration and all. It’s spine-tingling in a good way, something that you always anticipate but feel the rush regardless. For some time, maybe in first or second grade, I always came back to it as one of my favorite songs. However, now that I think about it, the song still holds up today for me. Perhaps its the simple yet inspirational message it conveys. Or maybe it reminds me of Ariel Rivera and Whitney Houston, only it was more relevant at the time, what with my dreams of becoming a professional basketball player or something else extravagant. Or maybe it’s because it’s from Space Jam. Either way, it’s something worth noting.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  For my third post, I recall my first exposure to rock, mostly due to my dad’s influence.  The Eagles, Hell Freezes Over Sometime after having been exposed to Whitney Houston, I was introduced to one of my dad’s favorite bands at the time, The Eagles. Being a child, it was a welcome change in the kind of music we usually listened to, mostly ballads and OPM, which I didn’t seem to gravitate save for the artists that I’ve mentioned in previous posts. In fact, I was still at an age when I didn’t exactly seek out music per se; usually, I just experienced it because it’s what people around me (primarily my family, here) would expose me to. In this case, my matrilineal cousins and/or uncle decided to get my dad a VHS (remember VCRs?) for his birthday, a reunion concert of The Eagles entitled Hell Freezes Over. For those of you who don’t know the history behind the band, they had split sometime in the late 70s / early 80s due to tensions in the band, which led to the beginning of many of their solo careers. Don Henley, whose solo career is perhaps the most successful post break-up, had always said that The Eagles would get back together “when hell freezes over.” Hence, their reunion show was titled just that #funfact. Though mostly an acoustic set, the concert was my first foray into rock in general, notably through songs like Hotel California and Get Over It. The former would forever be burned into my brain as one of my all-time favorite rock songs for its story-telling and its mesmerizing intro/outro (mind you, an acoustic version) and the latter will always be remembered as the song that I would anxiously await each time we watched the tape, perhaps because of its driving rhythm, sharp electric guitar playing, and commanding vocals. This concert was also the first time I began to understand of the concept of a band, ironic since their band is characterized by infighting. Prior to this, I only knew singers or balladeers who held their own just fine. But this, it opened my eyes to the idea of collaborating, harmonizing, and creating components that contributed to a whole. I guess this is one of the first times that I entertained the idea of being a part of something bigger than oneself. Kinda cool, when you think about it. Or maybe I’m just grasping at straws. But it seems pretty interesting.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

For my third post, I recall my first exposure to rock, mostly due to my dad’s influence. 

The Eagles, Hell Freezes Over

Sometime after having been exposed to Whitney Houston, I was introduced to one of my dad’s favorite bands at the time, The Eagles. Being a child, it was a welcome change in the kind of music we usually listened to, mostly ballads and OPM, which I didn’t seem to gravitate save for the artists that I’ve mentioned in previous posts. In fact, I was still at an age when I didn’t exactly seek out music per se; usually, I just experienced it because it’s what people around me (primarily my family, here) would expose me to.

In this case, my matrilineal cousins and/or uncle decided to get my dad a VHS (remember VCRs?) for his birthday, a reunion concert of The Eagles entitled Hell Freezes Over. For those of you who don’t know the history behind the band, they had split sometime in the late 70s / early 80s due to tensions in the band, which led to the beginning of many of their solo careers. Don Henley, whose solo career is perhaps the most successful post break-up, had always said that The Eagles would get back together “when hell freezes over.” Hence, their reunion show was titled just that #funfact.

Though mostly an acoustic set, the concert was my first foray into rock in general, notably through songs like Hotel California and Get Over It. The former would forever be burned into my brain as one of my all-time favorite rock songs for its story-telling and its mesmerizing intro/outro (mind you, an acoustic version) and the latter will always be remembered as the song that I would anxiously await each time we watched the tape, perhaps because of its driving rhythm, sharp electric guitar playing, and commanding vocals. This concert was also the first time I began to understand of the concept of a band, ironic since their band is characterized by infighting. Prior to this, I only knew singers or balladeers who held their own just fine. But this, it opened my eyes to the idea of collaborating, harmonizing, and creating components that contributed to a whole. I guess this is one of the first times that I entertained the idea of being a part of something bigger than oneself. Kinda cool, when you think about it. Or maybe I’m just grasping at straws. But it seems pretty interesting.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  For my second post, I round out my earliest exposure to music with a song that is highly regarded as a classic soul ballad.  Whitney Houston, “I Will Always Love You” As much as I remember singing Ariel Rivera to myself, my mom never fails to point out that I sang Whitney Houston, particularly this song, much more when I was 4 years old. I don’t deny it; in fact, I embrace it now, especially with where I am in life now: a choral director and an aspiring songwriter (aside from being a student and aspiring health professional, of course). The thing that really appealed to me about this song was how it progressed; structurally, it was similar to “Simple Lang.” It starts soft and gentle, a feeling of vulnerability and defeatedness, then it proceeds towards a key change that exhibits the artists’ passion, inner strength, and self-worth, which is accompanied by an orchestration that lifts the vocals even higher. I guess the only true distinction (besides the obvious difference in language and lyric) is that Whitney’s rendition of “I Will Always Love You” is much more of a ride; the dynamics are killer. She begins singing the entire first verse a capella, composed yet full of soul. Not to say that she isn’t calculated, but she’s definitely feeling what she’s singing rather than counting out the length of her held notes. It’s in this first 40 seconds that you know the song is amazing, and it honestly isn’t even the best part yet. Truth be told, most of the excitement comes from Houston’s vocals. Following that is the first chorus, when the accompanying strings and keys begin to elevate the mood of the song, from fear of holding someone back to being a well-wishing lover that will take it all in stride, but not without leaving you with “and I will always love you,” which, as she says, is bittersweet. There’s sincerity in what she says, but you can’t help but feel like she’s leaving a door open either for friendship or for a second chance. The bravura of her third chorus is the heart of the song, arguably the most famous part. She’s baring her soul in that “AND I…”, almost demanding that people get on their feet and hear her voice in all its glory. Her runs are simple yet clean and meaningful, and her composure during the resolution of the song shows her awesome range. It’s a really beautiful moment, to be honest.  Now, I’m not saying that this is what I felt when I was 4 years old, but I knew that Whitney was someone special. Being able to look back on it, I know much better now. Recently the song has come back into my life, most notably it was via Tinig’s “Looks Like Love” love song medley or Charice’s version accompanying the creepy cross-dressing Filipino lipsyncer. In those fairly recent moments, though, amid all the chaos that comes with learning medleys and watching creepy videos, I couldn’t help but picture my mom telling me “You always used to sing that song!” After years of repressing my affinity for it due to a misplaced fear of personal embarassment, I can honestly say that I’m a hopeless romantic because of songs like this piquing my interest in music. Whether or not I knew it consciously, I felt a certain tangible pain through “Simple Lang” and “I Will Always Love You,” but there was also the redeeming quality of hope and love. There’s something about knowing pain and then feeling the upside of it; to me, it makes someone feel alive, no matter how bad it seems to get. Looking back on it, as a child, I wouldn’t have even thought twice about any of this, but I do think that Whitney taught me how to sing emotion, not just the notes. It’s important to move people with the song you want to sing, to tell them exactly how you feel without telling them exactly how you feel. When you look at it like that, anyone can sing. It’s just a matter of getting past our pride or fear of embarassment. Sure, training and practice wouldn’t hurt, but if you make a connection with someone, music is serving its purpose.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

For my second post, I round out my earliest exposure to music with a song that is highly regarded as a classic soul ballad. 

Whitney Houston, “I Will Always Love You”

As much as I remember singing Ariel Rivera to myself, my mom never fails to point out that I sang Whitney Houston, particularly this song, much more when I was 4 years old. I don’t deny it; in fact, I embrace it now, especially with where I am in life now: a choral director and an aspiring songwriter (aside from being a student and aspiring health professional, of course).

The thing that really appealed to me about this song was how it progressed; structurally, it was similar to “Simple Lang.” It starts soft and gentle, a feeling of vulnerability and defeatedness, then it proceeds towards a key change that exhibits the artists’ passion, inner strength, and self-worth, which is accompanied by an orchestration that lifts the vocals even higher.

I guess the only true distinction (besides the obvious difference in language and lyric) is that Whitney’s rendition of “I Will Always Love You” is much more of a ride; the dynamics are killer. She begins singing the entire first verse a capella, composed yet full of soul. Not to say that she isn’t calculated, but she’s definitely feeling what she’s singing rather than counting out the length of her held notes. It’s in this first 40 seconds that you know the song is amazing, and it honestly isn’t even the best part yet. Truth be told, most of the excitement comes from Houston’s vocals. Following that is the first chorus, when the accompanying strings and keys begin to elevate the mood of the song, from fear of holding someone back to being a well-wishing lover that will take it all in stride, but not without leaving you with “and I will always love you,” which, as she says, is bittersweet. There’s sincerity in what she says, but you can’t help but feel like she’s leaving a door open either for friendship or for a second chance. The bravura of her third chorus is the heart of the song, arguably the most famous part. She’s baring her soul in that “AND I…”, almost demanding that people get on their feet and hear her voice in all its glory. Her runs are simple yet clean and meaningful, and her composure during the resolution of the song shows her awesome range. It’s a really beautiful moment, to be honest. 

Now, I’m not saying that this is what I felt when I was 4 years old, but I knew that Whitney was someone special. Being able to look back on it, I know much better now. Recently the song has come back into my life, most notably it was via Tinig’s “Looks Like Love” love song medley or Charice’s version accompanying the creepy cross-dressing Filipino lipsyncer. In those fairly recent moments, though, amid all the chaos that comes with learning medleys and watching creepy videos, I couldn’t help but picture my mom telling me “You always used to sing that song!” After years of repressing my affinity for it due to a misplaced fear of personal embarassment, I can honestly say that I’m a hopeless romantic because of songs like this piquing my interest in music. Whether or not I knew it consciously, I felt a certain tangible pain through “Simple Lang” and “I Will Always Love You,” but there was also the redeeming quality of hope and love. There’s something about knowing pain and then feeling the upside of it; to me, it makes someone feel alive, no matter how bad it seems to get. Looking back on it, as a child, I wouldn’t have even thought twice about any of this, but I do think that Whitney taught me how to sing emotion, not just the notes. It’s important to move people with the song you want to sing, to tell them exactly how you feel without telling them exactly how you feel. When you look at it like that, anyone can sing. It’s just a matter of getting past our pride or fear of embarassment. Sure, training and practice wouldn’t hurt, but if you make a connection with someone, music is serving its purpose.

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life.  With this, my inaugural post, I start a journey that will take me from my first exposure to music and eventually through to my current music tastes, in hopes of continuing to document changes as them come.   Ariel Rivera, “Simple Lang”/”Minsan Lang Kitang Iibigin” I have to start from the very beginning, from when I first felt a connection with music. I recall once, when I was just starting to having palatable memories, being taken to a concert at the Cow Palace in Daly City, CA. As it was in those days (and perhaps, even today) this was one of those typical Filipino popstar mega-shows that countless admirers would flock to, only to discover that tickets were unnecessarily overpriced, security was lackluster, and concertgoers oft turned a blind eye to rules and regulation. Pushing 4 years old, I can only put so much together before I begin to realize that either [a] I was asleep for a majority of the concert (I was a toddler, after all) or [b] my capacity for memory as a child was limited. Whatever the case, and for whatever reason, two songs from that concert seem to shine through and remain vivid in my mind. “Simple lang” and “Minsan Lang Kitang Iibigin” were some of Ariel Rivera’s original hits from his second album, which apparently went triple platinum. I seem to have fond memories of these song; although I don’t remember the actual performance, I’m positive that they played a significant part of my childhood, enough that I can still picture myself (attempting to) sing the lyrics with all that a 4 year-old could muster. It’s interesting, knowing I’d tried to sing a Tagalog song, for a few reasons. First, my pediatrician had discouraged my parents from teaching me or even talking to me in Tagalog, for fear of confusing me and being deficient in one of the two languages. While I know this to be inaccurate, having met many fluent bilinguals, it’s nice to know that my parents thought it okay to expose me to my linguistic roots. Even so, I didn’t even understand the words what I was singing, but words aside, it’s the notes that spoke to me. If anything, it was the idea that I could yell (in pitch, of course) and not get in trouble that was fun for me. I felt that there was something enjoyable in singing that I hadn’t experienced in anything else. 

The purpose of this personal blog is to seek understanding through hindsight. In particular, I’ll be delving into my various changing views on music as they have generally occurred, seeking to highlight those turning points where music (of particular type, or just in general) effectively changed my outlook on life and all that flows from it. While it seems like a grandiose assumption, I do believe that music has played a paramount role in my development as a human being, and this trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

With this, my inaugural post, I start a journey that will take me from my first exposure to music and eventually through to my current music tastes, in hopes of continuing to document changes as them come.  

Ariel Rivera, “Simple Lang”/”Minsan Lang Kitang Iibigin”

I have to start from the very beginning, from when I first felt a connection with music. I recall once, when I was just starting to having palatable memories, being taken to a concert at the Cow Palace in Daly City, CA. As it was in those days (and perhaps, even today) this was one of those typical Filipino popstar mega-shows that countless admirers would flock to, only to discover that tickets were unnecessarily overpriced, security was lackluster, and concertgoers oft turned a blind eye to rules and regulation. Pushing 4 years old, I can only put so much together before I begin to realize that either [a] I was asleep for a majority of the concert (I was a toddler, after all) or [b] my capacity for memory as a child was limited.

Whatever the case, and for whatever reason, two songs from that concert seem to shine through and remain vivid in my mind. “Simple lang” and “Minsan Lang Kitang Iibigin” were some of Ariel Rivera’s original hits from his second album, which apparently went triple platinum. I seem to have fond memories of these song; although I don’t remember the actual performance, I’m positive that they played a significant part of my childhood, enough that I can still picture myself (attempting to) sing the lyrics with all that a 4 year-old could muster.

It’s interesting, knowing I’d tried to sing a Tagalog song, for a few reasons. First, my pediatrician had discouraged my parents from teaching me or even talking to me in Tagalog, for fear of confusing me and being deficient in one of the two languages. While I know this to be inaccurate, having met many fluent bilinguals, it’s nice to know that my parents thought it okay to expose me to my linguistic roots. Even so, I didn’t even understand the words what I was singing, but words aside, it’s the notes that spoke to me. If anything, it was the idea that I could yell (in pitch, of course) and not get in trouble that was fun for me. I felt that there was something enjoyable in singing that I hadn’t experienced in anything else.