I’m not a musician, but I wish I were. I don’t have any musical talent, but I wish I did. All I have is a very rudimentary understanding of how to play the piano; if I sit down long enough at the family piano with my old piano books from when I took lessons seven years ago, I can sort of play a few songs.

I don’t know how to make music or how to play music. I’m not a musician.

But I love music.

I love it so, so much.

I love it because of the way it makes me feel. I love that it can make me euphoric. Aggressive. Loud and abrasive. Heartbroken. Nostalgic. Young. Old. Helpless. Wise beyond my years and like I know nothing at all.

I love how hearing a song can take me back to a memory, whether it’s one I made yesterday or last month or 10 years ago.

I love how music can bring people together. I love that moment when you’re at a concert singing your heart out (or maybe screaming it out), clapping, jumping, dancing, having the time of your life, and you stop to take a breath, to take in everything. You look around and see hundreds, maybe thousands, of other people, most of whom are strangers, also losing their minds because of music, the power of music.

What’s even more special is when you can share this love of music with someone you love dearly. For me, that person is my dad, though my mom and brother also love music very much.

But maybe I shouldn’t say that. What I should say is that my dad taught me to love going to shows, going to concerts, experiencing music live. My mom and brother love music but are not so keen on dropping everything to go to every concert possible like my dad and me.

For me, one of the moments I feel most alive is when I can feel the drum in my breastbone, feel the music shake my body, take over my brain. It’s incredible; it’s such an adrenaline rush.

Anyway, despite the fact that my dad and I love music and live music, we don’t always have the same taste. However, we do agree that a lot of the classic rock he raised me on, particularly Heart, is quite wonderful. Of course we do; Heart is his all-time favorite.

My dad and me at a Mumford and Sons concert last month.

Just recently, I found out that Heart was going to be nearish to where we live, so I told him in hopes that he would decide he had to be there. He did not let me down, as he bought tickets for us to go. I had seen Heart two times before; he had seen them six. I enjoyed the first two times immensely, but I enjoyed the third and latest time the most.

Because, like I said before, it’s magical when you can share music with someone you love, and it was just my dad and me, enjoying the music and reveling in the fact that we were four rows from the stage, so close we could clearly see Ann and Nancy’s faces as they performed, so close we could see every single one of Ann’s dance moves, so close it was as if the music would melt our faces. But, most of all, we were happy to be together. Or, at least, I was. For all I know, my dad was more excited that he was that close to Nancy Wilson. The world may never know.

Nancy and Ann Wilson performing at the Heart concert.

There was one moment in particular, when Ann was belting out “Alone,” my favorite Heart song ever, that I almost tarted crying.

Because that’s what music does. It makes you feel things. Things you can’t always explain. And that’s what was happening to me then. I was washed over with extreme nostalgia, remembering when I was a little girl who used to sing songs like this one with her daddy, when I was a little girl who used to pretend she was Ann Wilson singing her heart out in her bedroom to an imaginary audience. I was overwhelmed by sadness that that part of my life is over now, but I was also awed by the fact that I have this special bond with my dad that will never be broken. I was thankful that I was lucky enough to see Heart, and I was thankful for music.

And that isn’t even everything I was feeling because, like I said, it’s hard to explain the way music makes me feel.

It’s a beautiful, magical thing.

By the way, if you don’t know Heart, you’re missing out. Do yourself a favor and listen to their songs. I suggest that you, at the very least, try “Alone,” “Magic Man,” “Never,” “Straight On,” “These Dreams,” and “Will You Be There (In The Morning).”