Someone recently made me feel like playing music wasn't worth a damn, that it was somehow not worthy of pursuing in life. How could I let someone make me feel that way? I've always thought that music was a universal language. Perhaps I was wrong about that. Maybe some people just don't speak the language. I think they could if they opened their ears (their hearts). But some just refuse.
To me, music is a finer language than any other. It is often more abstract than English, but just when you don't expect it, music can describe feelings and ideas with more accuracy than any other language can, and with such power that it strikes our hearts.
But maybe they just said the things they did to hurt me. I may never know. But it's that kind of attitude that hinders creativity. And without creation, without contribution, the world would be a very dull place.
As a response, here is my cathartic performance of one of my favourite songs: Danny Boy.
This is perhaps one of the finest melodies ever written and it was written some 200 years ago, or there abouts. The song is called "Danny Boy" and this is my swing tribute to this traditional song from Ireland. I call it Swing Danny Boy. I hope you like it.