In My Father’s Soundtrack
Music has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. To be clear, listening to music, not creating it. I had a brief attempt at learning piano in early childhood, and I’ve definitely never sung (and can’t even if I tried) or composed anything. But listening? That’s been my thing. I owe that love entirely to my dad.
He was a huge music fan. I have no idea where his love for it came from—none of my grandparents were particularly musical, except for my grandmother’s affection for classical music and choir. But my dad? He was all in.
He’d often play records or cassette tapes in the living room, and we’d rock out together. I was obsessed with the California Raisins. Bob Marley too. And, believe it or not, my dad managed to get his six-year-old daughter (me) into Miles Davis. Yes, it made my heart soar… though, in retrospect, it was all pure ignorance. I wasn’t exposed to the mainstream music my peers were listening to. Honestly, I had no idea what kids my age were into at the time.
Around age seven, my dad got me a CD player (!!!) and three CDs:
· Aretha Franklin – I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You
· Marvin Gaye – Greatest Hits
· Otis Redding – Greatest Hits
Not kidding. And to this day, my favourite Aretha Franklin track is Soul Serenade (please go listen to it, right now!). I still know the order of every song on that album. That’s how deeply those early listening days shaped me. Back then, you had one CD and you listened to it on repeat—over and over again.
Eventually, I convinced my dad to buy me some CDs from “my era”—think Mariah Carey and Wilson Phillips. I know… embarrassing. Luckily, I left Canada right before the Backstreet Boys and the whole boy band wave hit hard. I’m sure they made it to South America, but somehow, my dad shielded me from it. That said, he did buy me Shakira’s very first album—and he even indulged me by playing it at full blast in his truck as we went off-roading.
Yes, off-roading. That’s a story for another day, but in short: my dad was determined to teach me how to drive in any condition—rain, snow, mud… even across a washed-out bridge with only two beams left (he got out and guided me across). All before I had a license. Looking back, I think it was part of his quiet plan to shape me into a woman who could handle anything. Just a guess, but it fits him.
I have so many music-filled memories with my dad. Driving to Tofino in his old red Ford truck with Jeff Beck blasting (that’s 80s electric guitar magic, for those unfamiliar). Coming home late to find him reading about physics, Latin American history, or astronomy, while Bob Dylan played at full volume. Watching from the stairs as my parents' legendary parties pulsed with music and dancing late into the night. My first concert: Leonard Cohen at eight years old. Stormy winter evenings paired with Chopin’s Nocturnes. Toots and the Maytals—just for fun. Jimmy Cliff was my second concert, also with my dad. And the list goes on and on… My dad was definitely rad.
Today, music still fills our home. My man is also deep into music—even producing and DJing (he’s amazing—here’s my favorite low-tempo set of his). His focus is mostly electronic, but I want our kid to experience the full range of what music can offer.
I believe music is healing. Energizing. Magical. It fills a space with something intangible, something you can’t quite name. And I genuinely believe the next frontier in health, and in life, is frequency. I want my son to feel that, to understand it intuitively.
I was inspired to write this post after rediscovering two music videos from 2014-2015 I absolutely adore. Both were produced by Blogothèque:
Lianne La Havas – No Room for Doubt
Lola Marsh - You’re Mine
When was the last time you watched a music video? You’re in for a treat.
(Side note: The Lianne La Havas version on Spotify is excellent—it’s a duo. Unfortunately, the Lola Marsh version on Spotify doesn’t quite match the raw beauty of the live one. Trust me, the Blogothèque cut is worth your time.)
Enjoy