Music isn’t about the sound or the volume. It’s the sounds and volumes of our personalities. Our taste in music is as unique to us as our faces. My friends’ pieces of tunes fit much closer in the puzzle of my music industry than my brother across the hall on cloud nine. He sits in his room breathing in immaturity with his undeveloped music choice. “You couldn’t possibly be older than I am, Jason. You like Cold Play? Reeeeally!?” My mother is not much of an improvement in the puzzle. “Country!? This is why we never hoped on the happy wagon.” Country to me is the like the stinky mistake in my backyard. Oldies Rock ‘n Roll. Not bad. My father and I are the closest thing to the soup and sandwich. We know how to feel the beat in our hearts. We let it take us over. But my youth lassos me into the Folk world. When you climb the stairs of amazing music genres you come to the top floor of Folk Punk.