James Mercer is singing to me. A song about moving away, drinking cheap beer, and listening to rock ‘n roll. It’s New Slang 2.0 but I dig it. It’s an origin song too, I believe. A song about how he got to where he is, to making music, to making a living out of it. Press play, kind stranger.
Now read.
I wonder what my origin song would be, if I could even write songs. Why did I even start playing music to begin with, if I could even play at all?
Ah, Grade 4! My mom wanted us to learn how to play music but we were too poor to buy a keyboard. One day, though, Ma came home from Cebu with a guitar. It’s worth 900 pesos, she told us, though I was too young to gauge whether that’s mahal or not.
Continue reading “Guitars, carpenters, and puppy loves”