If instead of growing up in Pennsylvania, I’d been born and raised somewhere like California, or New York, it’s a fair guess that I’d be working in the music industry.
My parents dragged me around the Pittsburgh music scene since the late 1970’s. While it was a bit heavy on the 50’s Doo-Wop, the fact is that there were few genres of music that I didn’t grow up around. It was just as likely to hear Beethoven blaring in the house on a Saturday morning, as it was to hear Buddy Holly. While I was sneaking out to punk bars when I could in high school, my parents would openly take me to jazz bars and music conventions. The first real boyfriend I had – back in 8th grade – was fully endorsed at least by my father, because he liked “oldies.”
While friends talk about concerts they’ve attended, I gave up keeping track somewhere in the late 1980’s (or earlier.) There are a couple particularly memorable ones with friends, but the blur happens when I try to remember all the backstage passes, or promo freebies from radio stations. The same goes for meeting musicians, but at least I still remember the first time I shook hands with The Boss, and the last times I saw the older artists that people from my parents’ generation would remember.
With the music came the art and literature, and I did spend a fair amount of time in that world not so long ago. I won’t lie and say my life was perfect then, but it definitely was much happier.
So, I’m going back to my roots, so to speak. It’s not likely I’ll ever end up behind the microphone again as a singer, but I can still talk – and write. While my roots were primarily in music, this time around all of the entertainment industry is open game.