Goodbye, summer

I approached my friend Tse to do this video. It was a time when I noticed she was into photography, which I respect, and at the same time, I had some music inside me I wanted to get out. I felt both artforms could mutually come together as one. This project (haphazardly named "Lonely Summer"; fitting eh?) was the result. Special thanks to her for helping to make this idea a reality. Her blog can be read here.

In the end, all we have with us are memories. Even if any of us disappear tomorrow, we still did something together. Never stop creating memories. There will be good and bad ones, but all memories shape us into who we are. It was a very lonely summer, but at least we immortalized its memory.

Interesting album covers

Dream Theater - Metropolis Pt. 2: Scenes From A Memory (1999)

My personal favorite album from progressive metal band Dream Theater happens to have one of my all-time favorite album covers. It's an assembly of photographs united to form a human face set against an eerie dark backdrop. Simple yet effective; very fitting for the album's story-driven lyrical content. The cover art was designed by Dave McKean.

Derek and the Dominos - Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs (1970)

Eric Clapton hid behind the alias of "Derek" for this album, which was basically a collection of love letters to Patti Boyd, the then-wife of George Harrison. I've always been intrigued by its cover art: it's stark yet colorful, with an air of mystery to it. It's like one of those photo albums tucked away on the shelf you want to open up and discover the stories inside it. 

Pink Floyd - Animals (1977)

One of the greatest concept albums of all time, it's only appropriate that Animals has an iconic cover. Upon first glance, you would think that it's a painting, but it's not. It's a real place: the Battersea Power Station in South West London. What really makes this picture is the pig floating between the two smokestacks. Those who know the music know its significance.

Miles Davis - Bitches Brew (1969)

Miles Davis dropped a bomb on the Jazz world when he released this album; it shouldn't be a coincidence that it had one hell of a cover. I honestly don't know what the cover art is trying to convey, but it's as shocking and brilliant as the music itself, which I can only describe as a soundtrack to a nightmare. Genius stuff. Ahead of its time. 

Michael Jackson - Dangerous (1991)

By far, Michael Jackson's wildest cover art out of all of his albums. There are so many things going on here, it's almost overwhelming. This came during a time when Michael was going through a lot of public scrutiny, and, as an artist who never shied away from expressing himself, released this. The cryptic images that litter the artwork still fascinate today. 

Iron Maiden - Powerslave (1984)

Now this is an epic album cover. Iron Maiden has always had a knack for great album cover art, but this one is my favorite. The band's mascot, Eddie the Head, is portrayed here in a different manner than all the other albums, woven into the scenery and theme with such convincing authority. The art itself is beautiful; it's not as creepy as Killers or The Number of the Beast, but just as metal. \m/

Meat Loaf - Bat Out of Hell (1977)

Meat Loaf always has great cover art for his albums, but in choosing only one, I gotta go with the one that started it all. Bat Out of Hell has one of most classic covers in music history- the indelible image of a Herculean man bursting out of the depths of hell on a motorcycle. Can you get any more badass than that?

Music

As far back as I can remember, I've been fascinated by sound. If something fascinates me, being a fan isn't enough; I have to try doing it myself.

Music has always been a source of composure and healing for me, as well as a stimulus for my imagination. When I was a kid (single-digit age), my mom owned a CD of classical music. I used to play Mozart's Rondo alla Turca on rewind, over and over. Something about it grabbed me. It sounded simple, but powerful. It was playful and aggressive at the same time. It felt like my own personality put into a song. It spoke to me. It was just one lonely instrument being played by one person on a piano, yet it filled my ears and my mind like a prophetic call. Everything hit perfectly. This music was made for me. I found infinitely more consolation in it than all the popular radio music that dominated the airwaves at the time. At night, after a stressful ordeal at school, I would put the CD back in the player, hit play, and drift away blissfully.

I began to breathe music to the point of rebellion. It was no surprise that when I started taking piano lessons, I was playing stuff in my 1st year that other students were playing in their 4th or 5th year. It was also no surprise that lessons would eventually get tedious and boring to me; after one year, I ventured off into my own. I laboriously taught myself how to play Rondo all Turca when I was 12, and what began as aural bliss became reality. It's amazing that, after all these years, it's still a piece that's as fresh and exciting as the day I first heard it.

I've always felt like a loner; I've always been socially awkward and I've never been good with words and expressing myself. Music has always been there to fill in those voids, and huge pools of emptiness in me were greatly fulfilled when I was 15 and started playing guitar. I got my first electric guitar when I was 16. I was meant to play this instrument. Before ever playing, I used to watch videos of Jimmy Page and Brian May play their guitars. They never sang. They never said anything. It was only them with their guitar versus the world. They spoke through their instruments, and spoke loudly. It was a perfect calling for someone like me. I wanted that feeling. I wanted to be heard, but in a way which I could do it. This was the way.

I remember the first time I performed guitar in front of an audience. It was at my friend's debutante ball. I had only been playing guitar for a few weeks, so I was not very good. I have to say that it wasn't a good performance at all. In fact, my dad, who knew how to play guitar, was very ashamed at my performance and said to me "You're not a guitarist". I didn't believe any of those words, because I knew I was a guitarist and nobody's words could stop my mission from becoming reality. Years later, I now have friends who took up guitar because of me. A discouraging father can have adverse effects.

Here I am now, at the crossroads of my life, often lost and confused with the world around me. But whenever I sit at the piano or pick up a guitar, the world starts to make sense again. I suppose this is a destined marriage for life. I will play as long as my body allows it.