136: Listen to the Music

I'm into music. Always have been. And my music tastes vary depending on my mood or the moment I'm in.

I'm partial to the 70s and consider that music decade to be unrivaled. Even so, I'm keen on current artists—especially if they're songwriters and musicians.

I grew up in the 8-track era. I still have a carousel rack of them in my garage cabinet. A few cassette tapes—mixed or artist specific—are still hanging around my musical archives.

I own more CDs than I can count and I'm stoked to hear, at the time of writing this, that they're making a comeback. I've also owned some vinyl through the years before it made it's return to mainstream, although I'm in need of a turn-table these days.

Currently, I mostly stream my music and love the fact that a song or an album is a click away on my iPhone via a couple of music subscription services I have.

Music connects emotionally. A song or a melody can prompt a memory. An artist's death can cause you to feel sad and older, depending on the era they occupied.

This week, the sadness as well as my age hit me as I heard about the passing of Frank Beard, the longtime drummer of ZZ Top. The boys from Texas won't be the same without Frank (ironically, the only beardless one of the group, by the way). Beard's death also prompted a memory from the years I lived in suburban Houston, Texas.

I began working with a church there in my late twenties. One of the congregation's former elders became a good friend and confidant. We lunched together often.

One day, when discussing golf—since he lived near a local suburban course—the topic of his residential area and his neighbors entered our casual conversation. Harry mentioned that his next door neighbor was "some kind of musician."

My musical interests were peaked. I probed, asking my late-70s or early 80s aged friend to tell me more about his next door neighbor. He said, "I think he's one of those rock and rollers...he plays the drums or something. His first name is Frank...Frank Beard!"

I excitedly replied, "Your next door neighbor is Frank Beard!" "Yep, that's him," he said. Then he naively asked, "Is he famous or something...?" "Famous," I said. "Frank Beard is the world-renowned drummer for ZZ Top!" "Are they any good...?," he inquired. I laughed, "Well, I think you could say so!"

My friend was living next to a rock-legend and he didn't know it! Now, all these years later, I think of that conversation and the decades of music that the now late Frank Beard, the late Dusty Hill, Billy Gibbons, and Elwood Francis performed as ZZ Top. The band's music, like that of countless others, lives on.

Music is timeless. A song, an instrumental run, or a melody has the potential to transcend time and add joy to your aging journey. Load a CD, spin some vinyl, stream a song or album, and let the music carry you back in time or forward into the present moment.

Listen to the music. It helps drown out the culture, media, and social noise. Let the notes, the guitar riffs, the beats, and the lyrics lift you above the chaos of life these days.

And with respect to my late friend, Harry—get acquainted with your neighbor. Whether they're a famous musician or not they could remind you that at the end of the day, we're all simply humans doing what we love as long as we have the opportunity to do it.

Turn up the volume and let the music take you away.

Press on...

Eddie