Growing up as the son of two socialist teachers has its funny flaws. In my case one of them was that my folks never really cared about technological advance. Born in 1973, I grew up with three German TV channels – all of them in black and white. When we finally got satellite TV at the end of the nineties, I felt like reborn.
It’s the year 1991. Finally, they are out: Two of the most anticipated rock albums in the history of rock. Use your Illusion I and II. Back then (well, it hasn’t changed, to date) I was a great fan of the Gunners. The romantic side in me loved the tune Don’t Cry (Original).
I remember one day after school. I took the bus back home. Like every day my dad was preparing lunch. Heat, steam and loud political discussions on the radio – our kitchen was so used to it. I passed the kitchen and entered the living room. My first post school action: MTV. And what was on? The video of Don’t Cry.
26 years later. A mountainous village in the outskirts of Barcelona. A cloudy day in Spain. I’m in the kitchen. No steam, no heat, only Spotify. And what is on? Don’t Cry. Suddenly, unexpected, … I start to cry.
I miss our dad so much. I miss the complete mess in the kitchen he created every single time. I miss his choleric attacks when we didn’t rush to prepare the table. I miss his smiling face when he tried his spicy goulash soup.
Music digs up hidden memories; music excavates emotional treasures. Songs of lost love, songs of victories, songs of personal failures – when you prepare your speeches, play songs that mean something to you. They will transport you into an emotional state that will help you speak with more pathos.
I didn’t listen to Axl when he told me, Don’t cry. What will you discover when you listen to one of the songs that is dearest to you?