Most of the things I put in my ears are fairly predictable. Never Q-Tips though – my self-respect as an audiologist don’t allow.

Sometimes I surprise myself, however. It all mixes quite well together, and I like to think that has something to do with my grandpas’ divergent tastes in listening enjoyment. The fact that they were so different laid down some deep and far-reaching roots in my approach to music, radio, conversation and every other auditory experience.

In summary, when it comes to stirring my soul:
weatherbeaten voice>cello>guitar>harmonica>piano>violin>bagpipes>drums (though of course, it greatly depends on who’s wielding said instrument).

The guitar category alone bears fine-detailed analysis and sub-categorization beyond the scope of this post. Also, there is a separate category for whistling, which is best left to in-person discussion.

My high school days were spent tagging along with my older brother’s musical tastes. Led Zeppelin, most prominently, and some local and Bay Area punk bands, the more lyrically rich the better. AC/DC was a revelation, slumming on my part since my brother wouldn’t deign to stoop to such guilty pleasure arena rock levels.

Luckily one of my excellent friends felt just as moved by the energy as I did and we wore out D batteries in my boombox (6 at a time) like they were going out of style – turns out we were on pace with that trend.

I get just as excited about AC/DC these days when a song comes on the radio…however I have yet to seek out the latest generation of digital files to add to my collection. Just seems wrong somehow. Even CDs would betray a part of my childhood. Once those tapes played their last, all means of playing them had just about disappeared from my life.

Only the memories remain, along with the extreme fondness that feeds the excitement I feel at the sound of those first familiar notes. Or am I just fond of the memories? I think it’s a lot of both.

Lately one of my stalwarts, Steve Earle, has let me down. His voice was born to be au naturel, and T Bone may be some kind of legend in his own time but he should’ve left well enough alone in this case.

I waited for months to get my hands on a non-bootleg version of Lonely Are The Free and it was not worth it. FUBAR. Back to YouTubing, what an awful sad state of affairs.

Bob Seger always sets me right. One of my life’s most powerfully affecting and memorable moments was when I learned that Turn the Page is original to the man himself. This realization struck me with such force that I nearly fell backwards down a flight of stairs. Now that would have been worth it.