A new kind of lover.

Sometimes you come across a musician, just a note or a word sung, that penetrates throughout your entire body. For all of my life, music has always played an active role. My mom takes full credit for it by saying it’s because she taught an aerobics class daily with loud music blaring in the background until she was 7 months pregnant with me. I might disagree, though, because if that were the case I’d probably be really into Olivia Newton John or Linda Ronstadt. One of my first music memories is that of my dad dancing in our living room. He’d put on Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock & Roll” on the record player, snapping his fingers and tapping his foot to the beat. I’d be dancing right next to him, singing, “Just take those old records off the shelf…” To this day my dad and I continue to share this musical bond, and neither of us can carry a tune or play a single note. I’ll introduce him to new music; he’ll ask me if I’ve heard the latest young soul whose obvious inspiration was Bob Dylan or John Lennon. I love this about my dad.

Lately I’ve been in a buying-new-music-rage that I blame completely and exclusively on iTunes. iTunes is the greatest invention since the Internet came into our lives. I mean, with a click of the button, you have an entire new album for your listening pleasure. And for only 9.99, I can fully justify buy a new album every couple of weeks. It’s not below me to eat Ramen noodles while I listen to my newest musical talent…it’s all about sacrifice. I think before my discovery of iTunes, I probably went months at a time without any new music. How I am still alive today to write this blog I do not know.

This morning on my way to work I was listening to my most recent discovery, Ray LaMontagne. He is brilliant. His song “Hannah” from his debut album, Trouble, causes me to break down in tears every time I listen to it. Not solely because of the words, but because it is that beautiful. To feel as if your entire body is being touched by the sound of a voice, touched almost to an orgasmic level, makes waking up every day bearable. It makes me want to put it on repeat and ignore the fact I am stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic before I’ve even finished my coffee. So if you drive by me sitting in my car on the side of the highway in tears not from an accident or flat tire…I’ll be ok. I’ll eventually take repeat off and continue on about my day in the after-glow of Ray LaMontagne. Now if only we were allowed the pleasure of putting our lovers on repeat and shutting them off by the touch of button when we had had enough…life would be near perfect.