During the course of Easter I was considering where music and sound belongs in my life. When I thought about this, I thought about my life from when I started playing music. When I was younger I went through a phase where I wanted to learn every instrument. At first it was the primary school tin whistle, recorder, etc. I liked the sound of music and rhythm and I also like the attention - something I can't really deny. But I always had that idea of being popular and famous. At that time I didn't understand the hardships of being in a band and the reality of being a musician, because movies and the media only showed the fun parts and, of course, I fell for it.
My mom tried teaching me guitar. She had this beautiful 12-string acoustic guitar that she had since she was 16 years old. Later on it would be utterly destroyed by a future band mate just because he was bored. But back to when I was learning... It was far too difficult for me at the time. I couldn't get my fingers in the right place quick enough. At this point I still hadn't found out that I had 'Dyspraxia', which is a motor function disorder. Basically, I can't process things as fast as others and I don't have full control of my body, which causes me to trip up a lot and seriously affects the control of my hands, fingers and sight, (such as losing my place when I look at my copy book to the board, or from my left hand on the frets of a guitar to my right hand strumming/finger picking). Eventually I decided on drums but it took at least 2-4 years of drums lessons and a lot of hard work to pass as an adequate drummer.
Continue in Part 2
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