Age 26

When you were young, music moved you. You resonated with the beat and with the story. And with the story you cataloged your experiences. Adam Song for hard times – I never thought I'd die alone / I laughed the loudest, who'd have known? Radiohead when you just needed to fall into the Earth and be absorbed by it. Kenny Loggins for reminiscing – Winnie the Pooh doesn't know what to do / got a honey jar stuck on his nose – and Tool for transcendence. There was a song for every feeling, every subdivided emotion. There was a soundtrack, a mix-tape, for every one of life's events.

Prone to hero-worship, it's no wonder young people are drawn in and captivated by the rock-stars of their generation. Still, I was never much of a concert-goer. With few exceptions I never went to big shows or bought tapes of live performances. I did hang out at coffee shops with live music but not the kind you'd stand in line for. No, I'm talking about the hypnotic synchronicity that comes from choosing the perfect CD for the occasion – for the exact shade of emotion that's coloring your world at the time. It's this desire for resonance I think we lose as adults.

The cry of the American teenager is, Please understand me! They grow into their maturity early - with a depth of emotion comparable to adults - but have no experience with which to interpret it. Their puppy-loves and heartbreaks aren't shallow, they're just unguided. And in steps Rock'n'Roll. The music travels with them – like guided meditation – through their experience of every new sensation. They know how they feel, but the music tells them why they feel.

As adults we've grown out of this 'music as a shaman' phase. We interpret every new emotional state with an ever increasing library of personal experience. We still cry at movies and keep a few mix-tapes around for particularly low days. We still resonate, but we do so with perspective.

I resonate less and less these days. I watch movies more and experience them less. I rely on personal experience more than lyrics or bass-lines to guide my mental wanderings. In the case of unwieldy emotions, I seek human interaction over music for their interpretation. It's good, this maturing. I like the feel of my emotional library; it's still a little roomy, but it's filling out nicely. And today it's okay that I'd rather listen to NPR than a burnt CD on my commute. I do miss the transcendence of a well chosen moment-to-moment personal soundtrack, but I'm embracing my stage. Today I feel old. And today that feels fine.