All Kinds of Sounds - One Guy's Take

Some of my earliest memories are stitched together by the sound of music. I was just a kid, sitting cross-legged on the red couch in our basement, flipping through my parents’ record collection. Those vinyl covers were like magical storybooks, each one promising a new adventure. I would pull out an album, set it carefully on the turntable, and let the room fill up with sounds that felt bigger than anything I knew — Bob Dylan, John Coltrane, Simon & Garfunkel — voices and melodies that seemed to hang in the air like spells.

 

It didn’t take long before I wanted my own music. I remember saving up birthday money and allowance to buy my very first album. I can still picture holding it in my hands — the excitement, the pride, the feeling that this music was mine. That album lived on that turntable, playing on repeat, becoming the soundtrack of my own small, growing world.

 

My first concert was another milestone — stepping into a place packed with energy, lights, and the collective heartbeat of a crowd. The moment the first notes hit, I understood something new about music: it wasn’t just something you listened to; it was something you felt, something you experienced alongside thousands of strangers who somehow weren’t strangers at all.

 

In college, my love for music turned into something more hands-on when I became a DJ. Sitting in the college radio booth, late at night, microphone in front of me, I got to share music with people I didn’t even know. I loved digging for songs that might surprise someone, connect with someone, maybe even change their day. It felt like a small, secret superpower.

 

Now, music is still woven through my life, maybe more deeply than ever. I’m always discovering new artists, new albums, new sounds. And I get to share it — with my kids, with my friends, sometimes even introducing them to songs that will become part of their memories. Watching my kids find their own favorites, seeing a friend's face light up when they hear a song they love for the first time — it’s like watching that magic all over again.

 

Music has been a constant — a companion, a teacher, a bridge. It’s changed with me, grown with me, but the feeling is still the same as it was on that red couch in the basement: wonder, joy, connection.