Rhapsody: Discovering My Love of Music by Singing Along to Queen
My favorite way to experience music is to sing it.
For as long as I can remember, the best way to experience music has been to sing it.
Okay, that’s sort of spiritually true but perhaps not actually true. My earliest musical memories are of my big brother John putting giant, over-ear headphones onto my wobbly toddler head and playing me songs from our dad’s record collection.
He would already be sitting there by the stereo listening to something of his own proudly independent choosing, and that’s when I would kaiju right over to him, wanting in that baby-headed, impossible-to-reason-with way to wedge myself into whatever was happening.
John and I are really, really close now. But being seven years younger meant that during our childhoods, virtually everything I did in any proximity to him tended, as a matter of sheer neurological and statistical fact, to be annoying. He was already stuck watching me every weekday afternoon from 4–4:30 in the slot between when our dad left for work and our mom got home. Once when I was three, I managed during this slim timeframe to express my indignation over him changing the channel while I was watching something by hitting him in the head with a glass Mason jar mug. (In fairness to me, She-Ra…
