As a child, I already knew exactly how the world should be. The unforced errors I encountered were as abundant as they were egregious. If I ever became the supreme royal dictator of the world, so I told myself, I’d waste no time in enacting my royal decrees. 

All books would have to include illustrations. Gone are the days of squabbling over how characters should look. Next, jeans would immediately be outlawed — they’re way too restrictive — followed shortly by shoelaces. Velcro is superior, in case you didn’t know. 

Finally, for my pièce de résistance, I’d require that all music contain lyrics. Buh-bye instrumental covers and so long classical music!

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I’ve since learned that some of my ideas may have been outlandish. However, while I still stand behind my demand for picture books, I am no longer a fervent supporter of these quixotic beliefs. But out of all these politically damaging positions, none carried as much baggage as my stance on music. 

My mother’s side of the family is quite musical, to say the least. My uncle plays the drums for jazz bands wherever he goes, and my mother and her sisters all learned the piano, the violin and the harp. Their collective musical training was spearheaded by my grandfather, who’s been conducting choirs for four decades now.

I’ve watched over the summers as my cousins dutifully followed in their parents’ footsteps by picking up the piano, flute and more. My siblings and I on the other hand — well, let’s just say we aren’t as musically inclined.

My mother says she doesn’t mind it, but at the start of middle school, high school and college, she never failed to mention the tantalizing possibilities within reach by joining the marching band: “Did you see the Spirit of Troy performed at Disneyland last year?”

Only in retrospect does the basis for my anti-instrumental music become clear: The lack of lyrics means one has to focus on the notes of individual instruments, which reminds me of my cousins’ recitals and, in turn, my own musical shortcomings. 

But, over the course of my childhood, I kept on running into troubling situations. In elementary school, my siblings and I loved the video game “The Blockheads” — think “Minecraft,” but 2D and worse. We were plopped on the living room couch playing together, and the in-game music was blaring. Instead of being told off, my mother immediately asked, “Who’s listening to Bach’s ‘Prelude in C Major?’”

I looked down in shock. Had I really just been peacefully listening to — and worse yet, humming along to — a piece of classical music? I quickly went to the audio settings to turn off the music and ejected the memory from my mind. 

I remained unwavering in my anti-instrumental music convictions and continued to consistently ask my mother to change the radio to pop stations so I could enjoy the music, too. But then, one day, I hopped on my beloved Wii and began to play “Super Mario Galaxy.” As Mario, I jumped on the heads of countless Goombas, dodged asteroids, fired star bits and collected stars until I finally made my way to the Gusty Garden Galaxy. 

By the end of the level, I was left completely floored. It wasn’t because of Major Burrows, the galaxy’s boss, though. Rather, it was because of the background music. It was powerful, uplifting and whimsical all at the same time. The music made me feel as though I was really right there, along with Mario, shooting across the cosmos to save the day. 

My mind was still spinning well after the music had ended. How had an instrumental composition with zero lyrics moved me so deeply? It was after a lot of soul-searching — and more gaming — that I realized I would have to scrap one of my childhood decrees. Instrumental music is just as capable of evoking powerful emotions as any other form of music. 

Now, I’ve concluded that having lyrics actually distracts from the moods and themes that purely instrumental music can create — a complete 180. 

This is best exemplified by Epic Mountain, which is a “team of musicians and composers who want to create emotions and make stuff sound beautiful and entertaining.” Somehow, their soundtracks are perfectly capable of translating abstract concepts such as free will, civilizational collapse and even loneliness into musical forms. 

If there’s anything I’ve learned throughout my lifelong musical journey, it’s that one ought to have an open mind, especially before instating any drastic royal decrees. 

​“Jam Journal” is a rotating column featuring a new Daily Trojan editor in each installment commenting on the music most important to them. Quinten Seghers is the news assignments editor at the Daily Trojan.