It’s not that listening to Rock & Roll was forbidden in my parent’s house, and our home bore little resemblance to the town in ‘Footloose’, but rather my parent’s taste in music had simply changed over the years, and as children we were forbidden from touching the large collection of vinyl that had been carefully tucked away in boxes under the stairs. Gone were the days of Sir Elton, Sir Paul, and Toto; their places in the stereo cabinet had been taken up by Beethoven, Mozart, and Handel. It was the forbidden quality of those basement records that drew me to music more than anything; these mysterious and somehow valuable objects that had been stacked just a foot away from my collection of Ghostbuster toys (also a valuable possession), and yet must never be played with. My father must have feared my temptation would grow too great, so he began my education on the proper care and use for the home stereo with all of its blinking lights, dials, knobs, and sliders, as complex as a space shuttle and conceivably just as expensive, and along with it came my introduction to classical music.

I can vividly remember my father taking me out on several occasions to experience Symphony New Brunswick: Continue reading The Saint John String Quartet Celebrate Maritime Composers →