All Hail Music
Above picture is of my brothers and me, last year, spending a glorious weekend at music festival Rock Werchter
It took a long time to understand that I love music.
Growing up, music just wasn't really a thing. There was nothing against music, it was just that music was, well, there. Or not. On Sunday's, TV wasn't allowed and it was the only time that music was really put on on purpose. Classical music. Always, always that damn classical music. It was the soundtrack of my boredom. I haven't given classical music a chance until some years ago. Remnants of youthful resistance.
My brothers were the first ones to show me inadvertently that music can be something that you like. Just like them, I delivered newspapers to be able to buy my first stereo system. Just like them, I'd go to the Free Record Store and spend my hard-earned and not-so-hard-earned guilders on a CD (EIGHTEEN EURO'S IN THE EARLY NINETIES FOR ONE CD, no wonder piracy showed up. Do we realize that the price of music actually went down over the years?).
Being a Dutch white kid in an incredibly homogeneous environment, there was a limited diversity of music I was exposed to. Come to think of it, I grew up with a bit of rock, EDM, and classical. How white can it get. Then, at 18, I went to an international university. My life, and my musical life, were about to get rocked. All of a sudden, I was living (campus), learning, eating, partying, talking with every nationality, race, religion, sexual orientation I could imagine. For the second time in my life (first time was a short period of high school in Boston when I was 14) I was surrounded by not only white, straight (or having to pretend to be), christian people. And. I. loved. it. Every house on campus had its own unique mix of nationalities in it. This brought with it an exposure to new music that I wasn't even aware of. All of a sudden, I apparently hadn't lived till I had heard some proper Nigerian music, Chinese classics, American hiphop, Venezuelan heart breakers, Caribbean swingers...My world opened up.
More and more I understood: I love music. It's like salt. If I'm happy, it can make me exuberant. If I'm angry, it can make me want to pick a fight. If I'm sad, it can make me let it out. If I am standing still, it can make me dance.
After university, I started working as a model. I was flying around the world, where absolutely everything around me was in constant change and disarray. Music became the only constant. An album, a voice, would bring solace. I'd be in another airplane or bus or train, feeling fully lost and alone or lost and happy to be alone, and just put headphones on and listen. For years, it was the closest thing I had to a home. Looking back, this could sound sad. But it wasn't. I loved it. I needed to be rootless. Music was more than enough of a home.
That's it. A short history of the beginning of my love affair with the second biggest love in my life. You know, I had the intention to write about why I love Spotify. I thought I'd write a little intro into my intro to music. It got out of hand. Happy it did.