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Neil Young has been making music for 59 years, almost as long as I have been living. Not just songs. Hit songs by bands and solo offerings that pack a punch as impactful as a Mantis Shrimp. The first album he is credited with playing on was the 1966 self-titled album by Buffalo Springfield, where he shared lead guitar responsibilities with Stephen Stills. The album featured the popular and enduring song, "For What It's Worth." The song is about youthful rebellion and generational conflict. The iconic song has become a de facto standard for broader 1960s dissent, including opposition to the wildly unpopular Vietnam War. That theme alone sets my heart to pulsating with the music, a delightful and catchy backdrop.

In the 1993 remake of the French film "La Femme Nikita," called "Point of No Return," the seductive music of Nina Simone played a prominent role. I was so enamored with the music, I went out and purchased the album, "Nina's Greatest Hits," the very next day. This initial foray into Jazz singers led me to Billie Holiday, who I consider to be the all-time greatest female vocalist. An irony when, considering Nina and Billie were rivals who disliked being compared to each other. The whole comparing one person to another is a violence I can do without. Each individual should be appreciated for who they are, irrespective of any other person.

Few artists in the music industry capture my musical imagination the way Peter Gabriel does, in any incarnation. From early Genesis through his solo career and collaborations, I love most of his creations. His music is conceptual, atmospheric, and ethically engaged rather than just tracks designed to be radio-friendly. He is a conceptual artist using innovative themes with meaningful, often spiritual, lyrics, and technological experimentation. His works cut across multiple genres including progressive rock, art rock, art pop, pop rock, and worldbeat. In short, he makes damn excellent music, blazing trails where few have gone before, either musically or theatrically.

My enthrallment with the expansive, introspective, and dynamically varied Progressive Rock movement's atmospheric music blinded me to other genres. I was too caught up in the cerebral and immersive soundscapes that bordered on the orchestral to notice the shift toward the less complex styles emerging in the latter half of the 1970s. I pretty much ignored the likes of Dire Straits and other emerging minimal roots rock bands, preferring the complexity- the punks would say elitist- music of Jethro Tull, Journey, and Boston. I was oblivious to the rising stars: Ramones, The Clash, Talking Heads, and countless other bands that emerged and dominated the 1980s music scene. I was too disgusted with the rise of Disco, to venture out of the genres loosely categorized now as Classic Rock, which is still my favorite musical style.

The earliest recollection I have of the band Genesis was borrowing their album, Trick of the Tail, from the local library. I recorded it to cassette, adding to my growing music collection. The album cover was a bold yellow with a whimsical collection of fantastical characters, eccentric monsters, and other figures inspired by the record's eight songs, including a creature with a tail. It was the band's first album following the departure of enigmatic frontman Peter Gabriel, who went on to have a remarkable career as a solo artist. The second album without Peter, Wind and Wuthering, was the final album holding to their original progressive rock roots. The band then moved in a decidedly pop direction. I moved toward other artists. I liked the occasional Genesis pop song but never again enjoyed an entire Genesis album as I did for albums two through eight.

There is a general rule of thumb in technology that goes, first is worst. No, it is not an anti-liberal trope rejecting meritocracy or an example of the trophy-culture myth. The gist is that a new product, though extensively tested by those highly trained to analyze with highly honed analytical skills, will always be released and then used in ways unimagined by the designers or even the best lab personnel. This perception is exacerbated by companies' drive for the coveted early market introduction, which skimps on features in the initial iteration. It is an opportunity to leverage actual end-user experience to learn quickly, then use those learnings to improve the next releases.

One of the bigger challenges for music lovers in the 1960s and 1970s was hearing favorite songs on AM radio that hit the airwaves at the whim of music directors, not to mention the piss poor audio quality of the medium. I remember sitting with the radio playing, fingers poised over the record button on the mini reel-to-reel tape recorder I received from old St Nick, the instant the opening notes were heard. I did this for favorite song after favorite song, creating my first mix tapes.

Some songs require repetition before they become beloved. Others are disliked more with every hearing. Then there is the magic of love at first hearing, a love that grows stronger over time, simultaneously giving roots to the past and anticipation for the future. Miracle of miracles, an entire album of songs is loved at first hearing and becomes the cornerstone of a collection. In my case, an anthem for my life. In my 60 years, I have experienced the powerful connection with one and only one album. There are quite a few albums where each song eventually becomes a 4- or 5-star phenom. Those took time to develop from like to love. The single love at first hearing for every song on an album for me is "The Joshua Tree" by U2

was riding my Huffy bicycle going to who knows where (we rode our bikes everywhere in our youth) when my argus eye spotted a small, brown paper bag lying on the curb. Naturally curious, I stopped to see what was inside. I found a new cassette tape, still in a cellophane wrapper. It was "Jesus Christ Superstar" by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, a rock concept album that helped define the rock opera genre as a serious theatrical form. As is the fate of anything that bucks church tradition, it raised the ire of the prudish folk of the day, elevating the album further into the public eye, resulting in bans for its deemed sacrilegious nature.

y father was somewhat of an audiophile. Besides having a full-sized reel-to-reel tape system, he owned a standard record player capable of switching between 33/45/78 RPM, a tube-based amplifier, and large speakers. He used it to play his collection of Big Band albums, sometimes loud enough to shake the house. Naturally, I also gravitated toward album collecting, only music of a very different era. Of the many albums I have owned, there is but one I remember purchasing. It may have been my first album purchase, but that is blurred. I can't recall if it was before, after, or between the K-Tel albums I gravitated towards. K-Tel offered a curated selection of popular songs, original hits from various artists, a cheap and convenient way to own 20 to 22 chart-topping hits without having to buy singles with B-sides that were rarely enthralling. It was an early version of the mix tapes I made once cassette tapes became popular.

Music, with its ability to influence human emotion, has long been an important player in my life. To honor this segment of my life, I have decided to start a series of blog posts based on the Lyrics of My Life (LoML). In the beginning, there was the pop-oriented music of my youth, followed by the album-oriented music of my high school years, the New Wave music that helped me navigate the stress of my university days, and the music I return to that helps me relive those halcyon days. Some songs, such as "Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2, I connected deeply with immediately upon first hearing. Others need time to grow on me. One that comes to mind is "Purple Haze" by Jimi. And there is a whole slew of tunes to which I'm either indifferent or that cause me revulsion.

The problem with finding an answer to a problem is that it closes off a line of inquiry. The joy of the journey comes to a conclusion. It is a return to the mundane following an exquisite adventure. There is a lingering satisfaction that pales in comparison to the season of wonder. The mind meal may have been sapid, but the feeling of satiation fades and the hunger for inquiry, hopefully, returns, kicking off another adventure.

While doomscrolling during a day when the air quality index was a very unhealthy 400 on a 500-point scale, I happened upon a podcast discussing the concept of spiritual atheism. It is a term that offends theists because it usurps a concept typically associated with religion. Its use baffles the atheists who see it as an attempt to saddle religious baggage onto a naturalistic view of reality. The phrase spiritual atheist is used to define someone who does not believe in deities, yet experiences deep feelings of awe, interconnectedness, and meaning. A sort of middle way between hardcore religious fundamentalism and strong atheism.

live for moments of awe and wonder, for wondrous awe that takes my breath away AND inspires me into a state of questioning and fascination. The two, awe and wonder, are related but nuanced differently. Awe arises when being struck by something vast or profound that exceeds the self, often with a 'small-self' feeling of reverence and, sometimes, a hint of fear. It is an initial reaction preceding wonder, a sensation lighter in valence than awe, of surprise, fascination, joy, and openness to what is new, the delight of being in the face of mystery. Emotionally, awe feels overwhelming, powerful enough to shrink the ego and alter our sense of self. Wonder, slightly less intense and longer lasting, is tied to a heightened state of consciousness associated with curiosity, joy, and fascination. The emotional peak

A common theme when entering a church, the temple of god, and a library, a temple of knowledge and imagination, is the admonishment to shush so that the concentration of the worshippers is not shattered. Both institutions exist for guidance. Spiritual and moral guidance along a single axis are the primary drivers for the churchgoer. Spiritual, moral, and intellectual guidance along myriad axes for library patrons. The former is where knowledge goes to die, but not so imagination, as circles must be squared to justify their belief systems. The latter is an arena where knowledge germinates into new ideas. Both are visited by votaries. One group is dedicated to entrenching their religious views. The other is focused on weaving the pursuit of knowledge into their lifestyles.