The First Note

There's something calming about hearing your favourite song.  It's a sense of security.  Predictability.  Familiarity.  It brings a warm feeling inside.  A sense of being at peace.  The melody fills the otherwise silence or banging of war in your head.  You're transported to your first memory of hearing it.  You're transported to the most vivid memory of when you've heard it play.  You're hearing the voice you've been searching for.

There's also something calming about hearing a song from your favourite band or artist.  They don't know who you are or what they've done for you, but you still feel this incredible connection to them.  They personify a time in your life: an emotion, an event.  They become the one who's there when nobody else is.  You idolize their ability to save lives.  Their ability to live.  Their ability to be passionate.

And no matter who else, or what else, makes its way to your iPod.  No matter who else, or what else, gives you a sense of inner peace.  Nothing compares to that one song by that one artist.  Nothing compares to that feeling.  Nothing can take you to that place like that first note.  No matter how long its been since you've last listened to that band.  Despite choosing other albums to listen to.  You'll always come back.  And you'll be reminded once again of the power that music can have.



Tonight, I've been reminded.  By chance, Simple Plan live in concert popped up in my Youtube subscription box.  Hearing it.  Seeing it.  It took me back.
Every word to every song.  The familiarity of the notes.  The faces of the band.  The feeling I get every single time.

February 19, 2012: My most vivid memory - "This Song Saved My Life".
I was sitting in the gold seats at the Get Your Heart On concert and cried.  I cried because the lyrics explained everything I wanted to say to the band.  So there they were in front of me.  And here I was, singing these words to them.  They couldn't hear me but the feeling of being in that moment was so overwhelming.  Here were five people, whom I've never met, who saved my life.  And here I was was in the same room as them.
That night was more than just hearing music played live.  That night was a gathering of people who shared something in common.  It's the feeling of being surrounded of people who are happy to be there.  Who are passionate about the music.  It was a gathering of astronauts, lost and found.
There's nothing like the feeling of being so caught in the moment that you laugh louder than you normally would and not care.  That you cry in public and not care.  That you jump and dance and scream recklessly.  It's a freedom of letting go and enjoying life for what it is in the moment.
There's also nothing like the feeling of hearing nine thousand other people doing the exact same thing.

2002: My earliest memory - "I'm Just a Kid".
There used to be a show called "The Hit List".  I remember watching it every Friday night.  I remember seeing the music video for "I'm Just a Kid" come on and being amazed at the spectacle that was punk music. Growing up in a conservative family, Britney Spears (circa her Baby One More Time days) was the norm and all I listened to.  But that night, I liked what I saw in Simple Plan.  At the time, I didn't have money to buy my own things.  I didn't have the freedom to go out without parent supervision.  So I borrowed "No Pads, No Helmets, Just Balls" from the library.  And I came home and listened to it.  I turned it up and I fell in love.  This was my rebellion: I'd listen to the music I liked, even if they didn't.

2004: My strongest memory - "Welcome to My Life".
I wasn't okay for a very long time.  I felt alone, unsure, and trapped.  And I heard "Welcome to My Life" for the first time and suddenly, I was okay.  It lasted only the duration of the song, but that was enough to get me through the night.  For the next few years, I'd play that song as loud as I could.  I was trying to send a message.  I wasn't strong enough to say it myself and so the song spoke for me.  I wanted somebody to say "I hear you".  This song gave me hope that there was somebody else out there.

And there was.  There are.

October 8, 2011
Film is my passion.  Film is where my heart is at.  Film is where I feel the best.  I can feel an uncontrollable light begin to shine in me when I talk about it, learn about it, explore it.  And as a filmmaker, I am also a storyteller.  I told my story to world of the internet.  And the amazing thing was: they shared theirs.
Being featured on the SimplePlan.com homepage not only was an honour, it changed my life.  People from all over the world, people I've never met before, responded.  We were not alone.  We all had these stories of not being okay.  And you know what?  That was okay.  This was a protected community.  This was an understanding community.  This was a forgiving community.
What I learned was that we are not as different as we appear.  People are generally genuine and good people.  And if you take the time to listen, there's a world of stories.  Stories that just needs and audience for it to have a happy ending.  We have been blessed with wonderful technology and we can use it to connect.  To support each other.  Time, space, and age are no excuse to hide away.
And through all of this, I've made a friend.  I'm not the best at replying to her emails and I feel terrible for it.  But I want to give thoughtful responses.  I want to say what I truly mean from the bottom of my heart and that can't happen quickly, and that can't happen when my reality is so rushed.  But I do my best anyways because she deserves it.  And because I care.
One day I'm going to travel to Finland and see just how beautiful it is there.

So here I am ten years after I first heard Simple Plan.  Here I am listening to every song and getting goosebumps.  Feeling calm and home again.  Dancing to the fast ones.  Taking in the slow ones.  Laughing at the silly ones.  Crying with the sad ones.


No matter what I'm feeling, music is there.  To help me celebrate, to make me forget.  To help me remember or to say the words that I never will.  And it's hard to describe exactly what music means to me.  Not even now after all these words have I graced the surface of what's happening tonight as I listen to these songs.