Music was my first love …

Music was my first love, and it will be my last.
Music of the future, and music of the past.

To live without my music, would be impossible to do.
In this world of troubles, my music pulls me through…

STOP! Fine principles but that’s not me, it never was.

I’ve been a careless, vicarious music fan, latching on to the likes and loves of best friends and boyfriends (and the music died with the relationships).

I enjoy it music. I find it moving, exciting, fun. It is good for you, without a doubt. And I love singing along – damn, I’m good at that. But left to my own devices, I can just forget to listen to it.

It’s got a bit worse since my MS diagnosis. Maybe I’m thinking ‘I can’t be seen to be enjoying something, not now. Got to keep the chronic-illness-victim facade intact. Must be serious’. How puritanical. How noble. How utterly wrong.

Or sometimes I don’t want to listen to something that might make me cry. There’s been a lot of emotions swilling around and they’ve been liable to spill out on the slightest chord change.  And I need to keep distractions to a minimum if I’m feeling cognitively challenged and music can feel like uncomfortable noise.

But that’s changing in September. Music’s coming back, with a vengeance, because #Ichallengems by listening to a different album every day of the month, and reviewing it.

I’m inviting colleagues, and anyone else who knows me, to suggest their favourite album. If I’m not already a fan, I’ll give it a go and publish my efforts here.

The final word goes to Vanilla Ice… ‘All right stop, collaborate and listen…’

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