How Jazz Music Saved My Life

Music has always been my lifeline, intertwined with every aspect of who I am. A few months ago, I downloaded my entire Spotify history from 2013 to 2023—ten years of musical memories. It was an eye-opener. While I often struggle to recall what I did last week or even yesterday, scrolling through my past playlists felt like unlocking a portal to my memories. Songs became timestamps, instantly reminding me of who I was dating, the friends I was spending time with, and the thoughts and emotions that filled my days. It was like time travel, and music was my guide.

Though I’ve always dreamed of being a musician, the talent and discipline required never quite came together for me. So, I found other ways to stay close to the art. I dated musicians, attended concerts religiously, and filled my days with music. As a graphic designer, I’ve been lucky enough to work on a variety of music-related projects—album covers, concert flyers, websites, and more. Recently, I had the chance to collaborate with one of the giants of the music industry, designing a financial app that manages royalties for artists like Taylor Swift and legends such as The Who.

Music isn’t just background noise for me—it’s the soundtrack of my life. I have a playlist for everything: commuting, cooking, driving, cleaning, and of course, working. And like any good soundtrack, I have one for every relationship I’ve ever been in.

I’ve always tried to listen to as many genres as possible—from classical and jazz to pop, ambient, and experimental music. I’m even a fan of traditional sounds like Cardenche, a unique form of a cappella singing from northern Mexico.

Last year marked a turning point for me. After a failed attempt at learning piano and music theory, I decided to give myself a second chance with music—this time, through electronic production. I’d seen people without formal training create incredible sets with Ableton, and that gave me hope. One of my closest friends encouraged me to dive in, and at the same time, I started a long-distance relationship with someone in Europe. He shared my passion for music and suggested I try VCV Rack because of my fascination with modular synths. He even bought an Ableton license so we could make music together someday. We exchanged tracks, dedicated songs to each other, and I sent him a daily track to share new music.

After six months of distance—one week spent together in Mexico and a month in Europe—we went through the strangest, most painful breakup I’ve ever experienced. It was so devastating that, for the first time in my life, I couldn’t listen to music. I would open Spotify and stare blankly, unsure of what to play. Every song, every lyric, triggered memories that made me want to cry or call him. Even unfamiliar music set me off. I found myself working in silence—a foreign experience for me—but oddly, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Silence has its place in music, too.

But eventually, I grew tired of the silence. I missed music, and then I realized something—I never shared my love of jazz with him. That thought was my turning point. I dove back into the genre I’ve always cherished. Jazz didn’t trigger any painful memories; instead, it became my solace. Its diversity, from the complex and intense Mingus to the calming tones of Chet Baker and Bill Evans, was exactly what I needed. Artists like Charlie Haden, Eric Dolphy, Coltrane, and contemporary greats like John Zorn and Sam Gendel filled the empty spaces in my heart.

Jazz became my healing balm. I’ve fallen in love again, but this time with music itself, discovering new dimensions and finding a renewed sense of hope, energy, and focus. Long live jazz and the incredible community that surrounds it.