Everyday Rhythms

My dad has always told me that when he and my mom brought me home from the hospital, they turned on Coldplay's song, “Fix You.”  Ever since then, my dad has always turned on music for me as we drive. Some of my most vivid memories are driving home from soccer with him, enveloped by the darkness and surrounded by sound cascading through the car and out the windows. The music was always turned up to the point it was nearly too loud, and I could not hear myself singing along. Most people become bored and even hate the mundane and ordinary routines like a daily commute, yet because of the moments I have shared listening to music with my dad, I have learned to see the hidden beauty in the rhythm of our daily drives together.  

For my dad, driving has never been just miles to be covered. He loves driving, but his true love will always be music. As he drives, he will always move with the beat, bobbing his head or tapping his left foot. Somehow, and almost inevitably, the steering wheel will become his drum. His hands always start dancing over the top of the wheel as he plays along to whatever song we are listening to. As he plays, he sometimes will explain the drum parts to me, or the different components of the song we are listening to. Our mini-music lessons cover many topics. My favorite topic is always listening to him break down songs for me and hearing him dive deeper into the lyrics and composition of each piece. He has this infectious love of music and this magical ability to turn, even songs I did not like, into works of art.

I am never the one to turn on the music when I am with my dad. It does not matter what my opinions are on what we are listening to, he is always the one who picks, and it has never been up for debate. I do not mind though. He will often turn on both new artists and old favorites.  Our mini music lessons will cover music history, as he shows me his favorite bands from decades past. Mostly he turns on new artists, as we explore different genres and sounds together, from country artists like Jordan Davis or Morgan Wallen to Scottish bands like Frightened Rabbit. Indie artists like The National, and Bon Iver, along with Drill artist Headie One, and Post Rock pioneer Sigur Ros are just a few of the other artists and bands I grew up listening to. My dad is the one who first turned on Taylor Swift for seven-year-old me when her album 1989 first came out. I do like a lot of the same music as my dad, with the exception of a few bands and artists. I am not sure if he has ever recovered from the fact I do not like Radiohead.

 I picked the music, or to be more exact, the song we listened to while driving, only one time in my life. When I was little, we had this tiny, old, red pickup truck. Whenever we drove it, with its shuddering stick shift, I felt so big sitting up front. I would pay careful attention to the buttons my dad pressed on the stereo, my six-year-old self plotting my master plan. When my dad turned on my favorite song at the time, “Hummed Low” by Odessa, I knew it was nearly time to put my plan into action. When the song ended,  I started it over again so we could listen to it a second time. Then again, a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. Sitting in my car seat throne, I grinned over at my dad as we listened to that song six or seven times in a row. I have never listened to the same song more than once with my dad since then, nor have I ever turned on the music ever again. That drive though, made me fall completely in love with music.  

Music, and those long drives with my dad, gave me a new lens through which to see the world. Nearly every day, we would have a half-hour drive to soccer practice, and as dusk settled, we would retrace our route on our return home. I know the route to soccer practice like the back of my hand, yet I never tired of it. In fact, those long drives with my dad became my favorite thing. That everyday rhythm of those shared moments listening to music became cherished memories. Memories that were made during what could have been seen as long and tedious drives and showed me the hidden beauty that can be found in the simplest of moments. Instead of letting our long drives together slip away into something boring and mundane, my dad would roll the windows down and turn up the music, turning those moments into special memories. 

I got my license barely a month ago, and I love driving so much. No matter what, I will always listen to music as I drive. I never turn the music up nearly as loud as my dad always does, but I have never stopped singing along.