The First Song You Ever Heard
Do you remember the first time you heard music?
It was probably in the womb, the beating of your mother’s heart like the beating of a drum. This is where we were taught the rhythm of life: how to walk, how to dance, how to carry on like the unceasing pulse of our most sacred organ.
Perhaps your first memory of music was someone singing. Maybe it was the low gravelly voice of your grandfather recalling an old tune to the strumming of a guitar, or the light tender hum of your mother rocking you to sleep. It may have been someone you didn’t know, who mesmerized your young eyes and ears on a street corner with their ancient magic. We’ve all been inducted into the special sphere of humanity that is music at some early point in our lives. This point exists as a faded memory, a mythological moment that carries more significance for some people than for others.
The first song I remember hearing is a well known traditional Scottish folk song called Loch Lomond. My parents sang it to me as a baby and we sang it together as a family growing up. The song speaks of lost love, the journey of life, the unique beauty of the Scottish countryside and the realities of battle and death. It speaks of Scottish rebellion against the oppression of the British and the Jacobite rising of 1745. This song is a lament, it is designed to help overcome and pay homage to the pain from the losses of this bloody struggle.
The chorus of Loch Lomond tells the story of a Scottish legend, which claims that if any Scottish soldier should die in battle on foreign land, they will return to Scotland by the Low Road, the underground route where fairies guide the soul back to Scotland to rest in peace:
“O ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.”
My ancestors exist for me in these stories and this song. This song comes to me from them, from my connection to this place I have never been, but have dreamt of and imagined since I was a child. I imagine my Scotch-Irish ancestors migrating to America, carrying this song with them as a piece of their homeland. I see my Great-Grandfather building the railroads through Appalachia, singing this song, intertwining it with those musical mountains. I can hear my Grandmother, with her special voice that has lived like a surreal legend in my mind, belting the song to an emotionally stoic church crowd in East Tennessee. I can picture my Grandfather, singing it softly to my Mother, teaching her compassion, comforting her in the Memphis night. All of these stories, none of which I have lived through, are somehow made real by this song.
Nobody knows who wrote this song, its exact origins are lost in the ether. Nobody knows the original lyrics either; they have been adapted innumerable times, wording altered, verses added and others forgotten. Yet the song continues onward, to new places, through new people, always evolving.
This is, in a sense, how all music has evolved. Early human civilizations mimicked what they heard in the wild, adding their own touch to create something distinct. Some of the earliest known musical instruments are flutes made from animal bones, crafted to recreate the beautiful sounds of the wind blowing through the trees or a bird calling in the morning sun. Throughout history, humanity has never ceased creating new sound, song and music. We build our music off all we hear and experience as endless tribute to the mysteries of life.
This is how Loch Lomond, a traditional Scottish folk song from time immemorial, came to hit me as a baby in California in the 1990’s. Someone created it long ago with a spark of creativity, inspired by the immensity of this Scottish Lake and the sad beauty of the world. Someone else heard it, loved it and reproduced it according to their own life experience and memory. It traveled across time, across the ocean to America, passed from one person to another, embodying the spirit of new places, cultures and people. It came to each of my parents individually, through their families, and they passed it to me. I carry the torch of this cultural legacy with me as I embark into every new phase of my life, sculpting the song to my own will, creating new meaning, significance and connection:
It is important, as we plunge deeper into the chaos of existence, that we take the time to understand what aspects of life we truly value and explore the roots of these values. My connection to music was instilled in me through my earliest life experiences and has led to a profound relationship that keeps me striving into the unknown future. This is thanks to the art, music and culture of my ancestors, which I can try to understand, shape with the instinct of my spirit, and create something specific to my own path.
Music is one of the most powerful forms of human expression. It offered solace to the Scottish people in times of great heartache and continues to do so every day, for so many different people across the world. This can be a lesson to us all. As we all face the daunting challenges of life, day after day. As things seem to get better only to get worse again and new demons seem to constantly arise out of the ashes of the old ones we’ve already defeated, we must always remember the steady beating of the heart drum inside our chest that refuses to quit, the origin of our connection to music, the foundation of the rhythm of life — urging us to endure.
