I believe in the power and influence of music. As if it isn’t made clear enough by the large framed poster of David Bowie’s album cover for the 1979 album “Heroes” or the Led Zeppelin lyrics that are tattooed on my left ribcage, music means the world to me. My earliest memories are that of me, standing in the kitchen, with an air-guitar broom in my hand. I was singing my very first favorite song: David Bowie’s “Rebel Rebel”. Its influence has and continues to be one of the most prevalent in my eighteen years, second only to the force that is my wonderful father. However, he is to blame for the importance that music takes in my life.

The role music has played in my life is truly remarkable. Music has been one of the only statics in my life. Despite all of the changes and obstacles I’ve faced throughout my life, music has been my mainstay. Yes, I travel through phases of my music obsession. In the fall and winter, I tend to prefer the musical styling of David Bowie and Led Zeppelin, while in the spring and summer; I tend to enjoy the likes of both Steely Dan and Cheap Trick. Regardless of the location, hour, or circumstance, chances are that music is easily accessible to me. As I write this, in fact, I’m listening to Jimi Hendrix’s “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)”. You can safely bet that music is on my mind, or in my ears. It’s difficult to imagine my daily life without any sort of music. I use it as a therapy, a distraction, or even a scrapbook. I’ve been known to devote countless hours to music. I have sat in my room for an entire day listening to the same album, and have spent a good chunk of my adolescent years re-reading the same 450-page David Bowie biography because music is a part of me.

Music has come to define a large part of my life so far. The wonderful thing about music, from my perspective, is that it somehow describes my life and experiences better than I can. Instead of straining to recall a hot summer night three years ago, I prefer to listen to The Eagles’ “Hotel California” and wait for the memories to pour back over me, as if they occurred yesterday. That, I believe, is the very essence of music: to provide not only a soundtrack to my life, but to describe things that I cannot. That, I believe, is the magic of music.