by Miles Eller, staff writer
Throughout my whole childhood, my house was filled with the sound of jazz. It was something that greeted me every weekend starting in the mornings when I woke up, and continuing throughout the day, reverberating across the house as I sat around as a little kid.
My dad has always had a huge love for the genre since way before I was born, to the point where I was named after his and my mothers favorite jazz artist; Miles Davis. His music, among many other famous jazz musicians such as Bill Evans, John Coltrane, and Cannonball Adderly, blared across our living room, through the halls, and into my bedroom, from when I left for elementary school, to when I got home, as if it was never been turned off.
As my dad works from home, I would always see him sitting at the kitchen island, typing away, with his same favorite jazz albums, Kind Of Blue, and Somethin’ Else, on repeat. One of my fondest memories from this time was waking up from a nap on the couch to see my dad in the same position he was before I’d fallen asleep, and just feeling so comfortable, and at ease while the smooth, relaxing music played through the speakers.
When I went to middle school and high school, the music continued to be the trademark of my home, but I no longer paid as much attention to it, nor did I adore it anymore. Instead, I began to find my own musical interests in different genres away from jazz, and started drowning out my dad’s music with my own musical genres, ones that I found and was introduced to by my friends. That music became my sole interest and didn’t leave much room for the music my family would play.
The constant playing of the music in my house made me want to step away from listening to the genre in my own time, so I replaced it with other genres like R&B and hip-hop that weren’t played in my home. I never grew to dislike jazz, but the same repetition of the same songs for all of my childhood made me want to branch out and find something that I liked on my own accord, and not something that I was constantly around.
Now that it’s my last year at home, I’ve started to reminisce about the absolute security I felt when I would be bundled up in my living room, solely focused on the bright sounding instruments that played through my dads low quality computer speakers. Jazz will always be something that reminds me of my childhood and my family every time I listen to it, and provides me with the pleasant reminder of what my warm home felt, and sounded like, even when I am off in college somewhere, missing home.
