When Prince mania was at its height and the Purple Rain album had just come out, I was living with my grandparents. I had taken a brief detour from my metal-lovin’ music choices due to the large number of hip-hop friends I was hanging with. And one night, while Grandma was cooking dinner, I turned on my Purple Rain cassette tape and did a singing and dancing concert for the imaginary thousands of fans screaming my name in my bedroom. At the end of “I Would Die 4U”, I did a dance-kick that snapped off the top of a small bookcase. I still have that bookcase, but I no longer have the album (wait, maybe I do…I’ll have to check the garage).
Several years later, there was a Classic Rock Comeback Tour in my living room. My air guitar moves would have been especially entertaining to anyone who actually knew how to play a guitar. After several final chords and a scream, I leapt on my couch with both knees. The couch legs snapped off, and the couch slammed to the floor. When I moved out eventually, I had to explain the deep gouges in the hardwood floor.
But there’s more! Recently I had a giant party for an unnamed milestone birthday, and there was much wine. There was also karaoke and I sang some duets. That is, until I stumbled to my feet and forgot I was still holding onto the microphone. Which I had just ripped out of the machine.
Music hurts, and it would kill if it could.