“I don’t really listen to music.”
I couldn’t believe it. It was as if my friend had just informed me that he didn’t chew food with his mouth. He seemed like a different species.
I tried to put myself in his shoes. Tried to imagine a version of me that didn’t really listen to music. I couldn’t do it.
But my friend is a few years older than me. I knew a few people, my older brother, for instance, whose musical taste had ossified after college. Maybe after your taste stops changing, your passion fades? I was only conjecturing. I made a promise to myself: I would never stop loving music.
Now I am an old man. Every day it seems I break a small or large promise I made to myself when I was younger.
I don’t love music nearly as much as I used...
