Personal Narrative Analysis

I have been told that music is an escape from everyday pains and suffering: it’s an outlet for extra pent up emotion. People tend to feel strong connections with musicians because they sing and perform the very thing that sums up their innermost feelings. For me, music was exactly that, and so much more. In a previous paper, I wrote about my last day living in Appleton, Wisconsin. This story picks up just a few days prior to that day, in a little recording studio in the heart of downtown Appleton. Studio H is a recording studio owned by a local Appleton musician by the name of Tony Anders. My band had decided to record covers of our tightest five songs, as a way to remember the good times. The outside of the studio was white, and looking at the exterior, it was hard to tell that it was a recording studio. The old, rusting door squeaked loudly as I opened it, and the moment I entered the room, the smell of wood and dust rushed toward me. On the opposite side of the room, there was a red drum set sitting on the floor, with a rug underneath it to protect the dark wood floors. There were also three half-stack guitar amplifiers and a bass amplifier that somehow managed to fit in the small room. The

He opened a door to the back room, which had a computer hooked up to a mixing board where he could add affects and control all of the sound coming from the microphones in the recording room. This section of the building was carpeted, and was kept very dark since it had no windows to let in the natural light. On one of the walls of the control room, Tony had hung a picture of his newborn baby, giving the room an overall a homey feel. I remember this room being my favorite room in the place, though I am not quite sure why. At the very end of the studio was a spare room, which Tony called the writing room. The room was a perfect square, and had no furniture in it