“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” -Maya Angelou
My journey as a writer has put opportunities in my path that would leave my teenage self awestruck. I have the pleasure of being a contributing writer for a long-running music focused, media outlet. There is a professional line to toe, however, when your inner fan girl is screaming.
Occasionally pieces of myself will slip into my reviews. I do my best to reign in the expulsion of personal anecdotes and repressed emotions. People have never made me feel the way that music does.
“The Spill Canvas was the epicenter of my late teens and into my twenties. To be completely honest, I’m still that same girl wrestling with her raging fear of intimacy, irrational bouts of anger and overwhelming insecurities. To find an artist that gets that, is crucial to someone who is in a constant inner battle. My forearm is a testament to my devotion, the full chorus to “Battles” inked as a reminder to rise above fear. Friday, I found myself in a crowd full of fans that sang with me, word for word to every song. My throat still burns and it’s worth it.” (Full article here.)
During interviews I always ask the same question. “What was your first memory tethered to music?”
I was five years old when Billy Ray Cyrus’, “Achy Breaky Heart” hit the airwaves. The country music sensation became the highlight to any car ride. Three years later I would be riding on a bus with my classmates for a school field trip. A student had brought along his older brother’s boombox. I’m not sure if it was a cassette or on the radio but sure enough those familiar chords started. We all began to sing. I remember feeling like I was outside myself, floating above the situation. It was the sudden realization that music connected people and it excited me in ways I wouldn’t yet understand.
Connect with The Inkwell Files by leaving your own first musical memory.