To bring in a voice who holds a special part of me, I have a conversation with my Nana about the evolution of music from her time to my own and the magic behind its significance.

It’s the string of words and the arrangement of numbing sounds that resonates in all of our chests. Music is that something that binds us to one another. We all have that one song, that one line that softens your muscles or lifts the hair on your neck. It is that one thing. The creation of music is the only element within each culture that is constant. While it carries meaning and connection; it carries love, it carries weight. No matter the age, the class, the mind, the heart – the sound of music stays with you through time. When you think of someone who grew up during the roots planted for genres like the blues or rock n’ roll or the classic sound for dancing on your nights out – who do you think of? My mind goes to my Nana. Being born just before the Attack on Pearl Harbor (occurring December of 1941), it could not be more clashing how she grew through her childhood and how I’ve grown through mine. Does music carry the same

weight to those among the older generations? The evolution of something like the music industry is worth being explored. It is the one thing that can bear our true voice after all.

The role of music does not exist the same for all of us, but it surely drives me and my generation. While interviewing my Nana (my mother’s mother), she raised a distinctive point for how today’s music is perceived and the reason for her lack of connection to it. “I don’t feel as open to new music,” she confesses, “…because the music of today is more socially orientated, to social issues. There seems to be a certain level of anger and that is a little foreign to me and the background to who I am.” Even though she has a hard time resonating with it, she recognizes the shared feelings of rage in our society. To look back, through her eyes, one of the first memories of her childhood was her mother singing to her. The one word that kept returning during our conversation was ‘intimacy.’ Naturally, most of us can still recall that one song from a cartoon or story book that was read to us before we fell asleep, but it’s not the exchange of hums in unison or sitting on your father’s lap listening to his favorite record from his 45’s collection. She recalls the closeness between her and her mother, while I recall the feeling of warmth in my cheeks when I hear my favorite song. While the closeness of how music used to be shared is something more of the past, it can still be said and seen that we all can feel something when we turn on a specific song or artist. It is a shared experience; it always has been.

But it’s not always that simple anymore. We want more, we seek what we don’t already have. That’s how the world has been wired since we were kids. The simplicity behind holding onto our personal sources of peace is need of protection. We all need the outlet of escapism. The ability to create that barrier between stresses and relaxation. Music is often times that escape for so many of us. While it’s ageless and timeless, it’s boundless. At this point in time, with all things considered, the power of music has never been more emphasized. In times of suffering and heartache, artists naturally turn to their art. It’s all thanks to the internet and social media that supports our near addiction to keeping up with something or someone. I often wish it could be like when my Nana was younger. The first thing she would do when she came home from school was turn on her box radio to Porky Chedwick. A common social gathering for her was centered around everyone’s collections of records to be played for one another on a turntable. The sounds shaped their days and years, in a more organic and close-knit way. In some occasions, the music we gravitate towards is felt through a more possessive and individualized sense. Perhaps that’s due to the heightened amount of sadness now felt in the younger generations. While music was a time for rejoicing and socializing with your neighbors or kids from school, it’s now altered as an opportunity to tune out all the noise from the world.

We’re lucky enough to be left with the voices from the past. As they still leave marks on us, the evolution of music is undoubtedly shaped by the original voices of R&B and the blues, for instance. The inspiration and sound have to come from somewhere. Like any other thing, we wouldn’t be where we stand without the innovative thinkers and creators of the earlier days. My Nana’s hero when she was around my age was Nat King Cole. The soul of jazz in a sense, at the time. She recalls to me the one night her and her girlfriends were within breathing distance of him and how pleased she was to witness his gentleman character on stage, regardless of the rowdy crowd. Thank god jazz clubs are still around, as most people prefer stuffy concert venues or outdoor festivals. Even before my Nana told me her love for Nat, I have admired him myself. There is something so comforting and reassuring in a honeyed and natural voice like his.

The true, classic way to sing a love song. That is what I wish I was alive for. The more natural, the more cherished way of telling a song’s story. He paints a moment into a melody, like he is retelling the story each and every time he sings it. He just loved love. My Nana was only 17 years old then. Nat falls under what is known as the ‘crooners’ singers who sing in a more soft and intimate manner, made viable through the introduction of microphones and amplifications. It was simple and it was raw. Of course, love is still one of the major inspirations for songwriters, thankfully. It just continues to lack that element of nostalgia and spring of the chills, where the crooners never failed to deliver. That is what music today is missing for me.

You don’t have to be born into the era of when something was first created to appreciate and admire it. That’s the beauty of technology really. The younger people of today are spoiled with not only the use of it but the intensity of it. It’s too easy to take advantage of. Speaking to my Nana always makes me feel older than I am and more grounded than I am. She’s my token to the past and the one figure in my life that I respect like no other. “Music is the voice inside us,” she tells me. “Even when you like another artist’s song, it’s awakening something in you.” That could not be truer. No matter how small the significance of music is to a person, everyone can resonate with a song and its purpose. It can erupt every stretch of emotion the heart can feel.

Sometimes it will sting or sometimes it will make you want to break a window to have everyone hear. Near the end of our interview, the space between us became a bit tender. I asked her if music brought the same peace to her now from when she was younger. With the power of music comes the power of remembering. It holds pieces of our heart. So, the most telling line of my conversation with my Nana was her last one. “Music to me is a little bit like the ocean: it’s such a beautiful thing, that it’s so beautiful it kind of…” As she trailed off into emotion, I knew exactly when she meant. Something so captivating can only bring so much beauty without bringing so much pain. The only thing more vigorous than our relationship with our sources to our memories and feelings, are the memories themselves. It will never matter how different you are from someone; every one carries that weight. Our voices (my Nana and I) are understood through song and they always will be. Find out what brings out the song in you, whatever that may be. And hold it closer than you’ve ever held something before. It’s yours.