High notes and stuff I don’t want to hear.

I was never an angry teenager. I was a black hole where all light died. Everything good was twisted and warped into something that I could hate. I was not sad. I refused to be happy. Music was not meant to heal me, it was supposed to block everything else out.

I stumbled into rock, its not something we do here. (If we cannot dance to it, really dance, it’s probably not getting a playlist.) I was into hip hop, the hard stuff, go ahead, guess… Eminem, a guy calling himself immortal technique -he was my first 9/11 conspiracy theory (now the NSA know I have a blog)… bomb, KRS 1 and Tupac.

Back to rock, first it was the punk rock stuff… Avril Lavigne and P!nk, I was angry at men for reasons I didn’t care to make up. Then, as a third year high school student of music and Keeper of the Music Room keys, I discovered Evanscence. I can perfectly picture you going, ‘Really? that was your musical epiphany?’. Yes, emo rock was the first genre I really listened to. They understood the chasm that was my heart. Also I was 18 and metallica would lead me to a Vatican sanctioned exorcism in my very Catholic school.

Importantly, when the rage had receded and my mum was likable again, I found the good stuff. Rolling Stone, Aerosmith, Dire Straits. I was crazy about Nirvana and Smells like Teen Spirit was on repeat before I googled Curt Cobain and found out he was no longer with us. I still listen to the emo and punk…and sometimes, when it’s dark and no one can hear me, Nickleback.

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