Do I love music? Like truly, madly, deeply love it? The short answer is yes. But you’re not here for short answers. If you were, you’d have already clicked away. If you’re still with me, it means you’re curious — curious about what keeps me coming back to albums I’ve listened to more times than I can count.
Music is my escape. Music is my nostalgia drug. Music is the key that unlocks emotions I spend most of my life trying to keep locked up.
I’m not going to give you a list of albums, because those are mine. Not out of gatekeeping, but because the albums that cracked me open might not crack you the same way. Yours are different. They have to be — because we’ve lived different lives, different heartbreaks, different triumphs. Of course, there’s overlap. The great albums always find a way to cross lines, cut through, and unite us. But the ones that matter most are the ones that find you when you need them.
I’ll give you one example. Chris Isaak’s Forever Blue. I found it after high school, when the girl I thought I was in love with just wanted to be friends. “Graduation Day” hit me like a mirror. For weeks, it felt like Isaak had reached inside my chest and written my story back to me. Looking back now, I wonder about his own heartbreak while writing it. Sharing in that pain — that connection across time — felt like the only thing keeping me upright. Where would my emotional journey have gone if that album hadn’t been there to lean on?
So, do I love music? Yes — but it’s more than just love. It’s hate, admiration, longing, comfort, and chaos all wrapped into one. Love can drive us crazy. Love can fluster us. Love can break us down and build us back up.
And music? Music does the same.
Music is love.
Hear the story behind this post.
I turned this reflection into a special episode of Sound Of, where I dive deep into Chris Isaak’s Forever Blue — the heartbreak, the beauty, and why it still matters.
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