I stumbled upon this quote from Criminal Minds via a meme on Twitter.

It soon occurred to me that (sadly) I’m at the age where a lot of my friends have teenage (or older!) kids. I reached out to one I knew had a “cool”-looking kid and asked her age…

“She’s 14,” she said.

Within seconds, both the mom and the kid were gushing about our product, about music, about life. And then, before either of them had a chance to download the app, I got a text that simultaneously made me proud, melted my heart, and transported me back to when I was 14.

“I think you are going to make a HUGE impact with teenagers. She just shared this with me right now and, as she was talking, her words brought her to tears.

Not kidding! This is the first time she has shared this with me, so you just made an impact on us tonight. Thank you for giving her the platform to share her feelings.”

“When I was in 7th grade, I felt very alone with friendships, and personality differences, but when I listened to music — and these bands — I felt like they shared the emotions I was feeling.

The lyrics mean more to me than anything.

This music makes my day better and gives me hope and motivation through the whole day — like armor. The lyrics keep saying, ‘be yourself and don’t change who you are.’ Their music taught me about the powerful connection that can happen between a song, an artist, and me.” — Frankie Tresser, 14

Let me pause for a second and say… wow.

Every conversation I’ve ever had about the big vision of Music Impacts has surprised me. Whether people don’t get it at all or go all-in on storytelling, every conversation has blown me away — some because of an “we’re building something meaningful” pride; others because of a “what happened to human connection and the music industry at large?” disappointment; and others because of my love for what, I guess, one would call social anthropology.

The collage of personal stories — people’s interpretations or attachements to artists, albums, or tracks, and how they’ve impacted or allow people to recall certain events in their lives — always bring a wide, validated smile to my face or, in some cases, a tear (yes, I’ve teared up a few times).

However, from the beginning, I assumed it wouldn’t be possible for me to empathize with a teenager through our platform. After all, I’ve hung out with teen artists like Jack and Jack and Justin Bieber, but I wondered how much I had in common with them, their music, or their fans.

I’ve always believed our audience will be generationless, but I also assumed the best stories would come from people over 30 — people who have had time to live and change with/because of the music.

And yet Frankie’s story hit me harder than others.

My unfounded assumptions essentially ignored or even disrespected my own teenage intelligence and emotions. I was Frankie — the picture-perfect cool kid that was struggling despite what I projected. Hell, I am Frankie!

I reached out to Frankie’s mom because I saw her as a “cool” kid. She’s always had a sense of style, and sport, and dyed pink/blue hair colors and such. As a multi-continent kid, she has probably seen more of this world than me. And she always seemed really happy. I was surprised by her words for multiple reason, but I totally get it. I’ve been there.

As I was reading Frankie’s story, I saw myself at her age. With my multi-colored hair. My divorced and broken family. My buried and bullied teenage angst. My escape in the shape of playing and listening to music.

I’m not sure I’d be alive if it wasn’t for music. I didn’t have anything to live for before music. I was poor. We frequently moved which, means I had a hard time making and keeping friends. I was, for the most part, an outcast. Ironically, my music preferences made me more of an outcast — but it also gave me a stronger community than anything I had before.

Music gave me an identity as a teenager and an understanding as an adult.

The world has learned how to hide behind social networks. We’ve curated our image. We’ve become arbiters of everything and sharers of nothing. Like Lester Bangs predicted, we’ve created an industry of cool.

We believe music as a storytelling device can break down these walls and get to the real person. Everyone can relate to at least one song and we hope to bring the world together through these stories.

Music is vulnerable. Artists pour their thoughts, fears, and romances into songs. These songs make their fans cry, scream, and sing — whether alone or surrounded by thousands of likeminded people with a unique connection to music. Music is it’s own language, and it often says it better than anything we could say for ourselves. We share songs with friends and loved ones as a way to communicate our feelings. We adorn ourselves and profiles with artist ephemera saying, clearly, “this is me; are we the same?” We have a relationship to music that, in some cases, nobody knows about. How many times has a song came on that reminded you of someone and you basked in that moment and memory for three minutes?

Music gave us Frankie’s lovely story, but it gave her and her mom something far more special — vulnerability.

In my experience, if anyone is looking for a safe place to be vulnerable and find validation, community, and identity, it’s teens.

So the idea that music impacts us more at 14 than any other age resonates and bodes well for our future. (Hint: It also has us working on some big changes that will let us better cater to youth.)

I hope that Frankie’s and other stories like hers (maybe even my own) will not only help other 14 year olds discover the music that helps define and claim their lives but also remind us older folk to look back on how much Music Impacts Everything about our lives and reflect, share, and interact with others like Frankie. These kids can teach us something — if we listen.

My friend Alan, VP of Product at Target — a new parent and one of the smartest people I know — summed it up beautifully:

Kids are as intelligent and insightful as most of the adults that I know — people just don’t listen to them for some reason.

Thank you, Frankie.

You’re not alone,

Merrick
Music Impacts Founder/CEO

Storytelling is a form of history, of immortality too. It goes from one generation to another. — Studs Terkel