Personal Essay: The Best Music In My Life

When I'm in my car, driving down the road with the sun in my hair and the windows rolled down, I don't reach for the radio and turn on Top Hits. Instead, I play the classics, arguably the best music that came out of the 20th century: The Grateful Dead, the Bee Gees, Jimmy Buffett, some reggae, perhaps some First Wave or 80s hits, all the best that fit my mood driving down the Colorado highway from the Rocky Mountains to Denver. Music has always been a prevalent part of my life. My family loves music, although its members may not be the most musically talented. The songs and sounds of artists we love permeate every family gathering. James Taylor marks the beginning of a relaxing night in of take-out and board games. John Denver closes a dinner as the whole family sings along to my dad’s favorite “Rocky Mountain High” or to “Take Me Home, Country Roads”.

“Cherry” Garcia is not just a Ben and Jerry’s flavor. Why does my family love the Grateful Dead? Maybe it's the way Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, and Phil Lesh all break into their own riffs at once on their guitars. At first it may sound chaotic, but, all at once, it becomes a chorus. Chords and strings plucked madness alone but harmony together. The guitarists communicate through music to coordinate the songs that stun audiences. “It's musical genius,” my dad would tell me. Initially, seven year-old me would demand the radio be turned to Radio Disney; 10 minute long songs of guitar-riffs and only occasional singing? That’s genius? Yet the music slowly grew on me as I began to understand what my dad meant--it is “musical