My early memories of music are very different than the experiences I associate with the music I love now. I don’t even have a “first” memory of music because I genuinely don’t remember it not being in my life. Like our first exposure to most things, mine came through my parents. Both of my parents are really musical people. My dad has played the guitar for most of his life – and definitely all of mine. Those of you in my sophomore English class might remember me giving my PechaKucha presentation about this. There are pictures of me sitting on my dad’s lap while he plays guitar that I can’t even remember. When he gets together with his family (and sometimes friends), my dad always busts out the guitar and they sit around singing 70s folk songs. When I was really little, I loved being in the thick of this – singing along to the songs that I did know in the off-key tone of a four year-old and banging along on the tambourine when I didn’t. Because my dad works in music a...