By Hans Ebert

There’s something about being in and into music. It can’t be put into words. Maybe notes. And a melody. And the stories that unfold. About Eleanor Rigby. Stella By Starlight. Mr Bojangles. Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Moon River. By The Time I Get To Phoenix. I’m Not In Love. The musical storytelling continues…It’s timeless and ageless. Like Paul and Paul.

Try explaining this- the magic of music- to some who can be many, and who don’t understand it. There’s no understanding of the purity of music. Its honesty.

Often it’s a brutal honesty that helps exorcise the demons drumming negativity inside of you. There are also those moments when music can be uplifting. How it blows away those clouds and brings about clarity, inspiration and positivity.

Music is a healer. It really is. It’s like Mother Mary. It/she/he/them come to you when you most need them. Especially when you’ve been betrayed. When ambushed in a thunderstorm of negativity and politics. This is when music becomes your third eye. It helps you see beyond the obvious. As Don Henley sang, it helps you get to the heart of the matter.

It reminds you of where you’ve been. Those no longer with you. But how they live with you inside a song. And how that song came about. Why big boys don’t cry.

Music. Carry it with you wherever you go. It comes in different shapes, sizes, shades, colours and feelings. It takes you to where you need to be.

Music. It’s there for you when you most need it. That rabbit hole we often need to fall into and see where we land. And then the journey begins again.