Where'd He Get This Stuff?

So, I'm sitting here listening to one of the mixes my son made before he went back to college. There's this Hendrix stuff--Bold As Love and two or three others--some I know and some I don't. Where did he hear these, I wonder? It puts me in this mood--I didn't hear alot of Hendrix until I was 18. He's 18. Where did the time go?

There's something about music that can, sometimes, just reach into my chest and squeeze my heart . . . whether it's the notes or the lyrics or the memories evoked . . . music's always been the key to my emotional state. In the lyrics I hear, I don't know, messages? That makes me sound like a freak, but I think it's true of anyone for whom music touches their soul. And in the instrumentation, well, I can be lifted to heights of happiness and dropped to lows of sadness. This is true of most people, I assume. Sometimes, though, the same note in a given song can lift me to happiness or make me cry. Is this just peculiar to me? I think not.

Anyway, back to my son. My heart aches missing him--especially when I listen to these songs that he's picked for his mixes. It is such a personal thing to put music on a disc for yourself and to share with others. You are using music to speak. It puts one in a position of vulnerability close to that of singing for others. Here you are saying, "Yeah, I like this stuff. It speaks for me and to me." I don't know. For me, that's a big thing.

yours in music,
Tracy