Every neighborhood of Los Angeles has at least one neighbor with a speaker blasting their morning radio. On the corner of Echo Park Avenue, you will find men sitting in their white lowriders with a Mexican flag and their radios playing as they await their morning coffee.

My morning drives consisted of my father playing El Show de Erazno y La Chokolata. Now a college senior, I sit outside my balcony with a little radio blasting the music that has followed me from my early days as an Angeleno.

If you tune in to the radio, you’ll hear the different aspects that shape L.A. life. The city is ever-changing, and each neighborhood has its own rhythm and voice. When I began working at a little thrift shop, I was exposed to the ethereal music of Donna Summer, my collection of bell-bottoms expanded, and soon, my new boots began clicking down Trousdale Parkway.

Surrounded by racks of vintage clothing, I daydreamed about what it would be like to wear those bell-bottoms on the streets of 1970s L.A., or slip into faded tees in 2000s Echo Park, when the neighborhood was filled with family-owned shops — when it was not confused with East Los Angeles and Silver Lake. Through those clothes, I felt connected to a time and place that thrived with music.

Ultimately, I discovered my music taste through an understanding and love of vintage clothing. Before this exposure, I spent my time walking and bus routing my way through the city. Walking through MacArthur Park, you’ll hear Marimba music — Guatemala’s national sound — making its way to the center of the city. Immigrants have long shaped the city, and their stories are woven into the speakers that sit in its apartment windows — a staple throughout L.A.

During my shifts at the thrift shop, as the genres changed, I grew to understand the city as a musical.

Every year, Echo Park Rising takes place, flooding the streets with community and the air with the sound of every building’s playlist blasting. As a young girl, I saw the street fair as an annoying L.A. traffic scene combined with large Dodgers game crowds.

Now, I view the chaos of the cars mixed with the excitement of Dodgers games as defining what Sunset Boulevard is: a street brought to life through the noise of different genres. On the roof of Gold Room Bar, Britpop classics like Blur’s “Girls & Boys” echo; ’80s tracks like Duran Duran’s “Girls on Film” play down the street. Each business has its speaker blasting different tunes, creating harmony and musical chaos all at once.

When Echo Park Rising isn’t happening, El Clasico Tattoo Shop hosts their Park on the Dance Floor. Through this event, artists fill the tattoo shop with multimedia art, and the sounds from Chevrolet Impalas fill the night air with what a night in ’90s L.A. felt like. Hits like Mary Jane Girls’ “Candy Man” and The Flirts’ “Danger” charge the air as people dance their way in the street. These beats have defined the Chicano identity in L.A.

Echo Park has seen changes in the Mexican American identity’s thriving. From the early ’50s, the removal of the Chavez Ravine neighborhood to build Dodger Stadium and gentrification in other areas have displaced families throughout. As a Mexican who has resided in the neighborhood, I can still pick out an accordion’s rich tone past midnight.

Undoubtedly, I grew up around music booming at every corner.

Being surrounded by music has played a part in my own impulse to grab my JBL speaker. Every morning, as I prepare for a long day of class, I grab my small radio and listen to disco beats, my small collection of CDs growing as I continue exploring the city.

This understanding of L.A. has not changed during my time at USC. The similar alarm and night sounds of a blasting radio or speaker persist. From the college dorms on game days, to students enjoying the sunset, to even the fraternity brothers who pump their house music, the music has all echoed in the walls of my house.

Music has transformed my connection to the city, but also to those around me. I continue to grow my collection of bell-bottoms and CDs from the music I heard at events in my neighborhood. I continue to vibe to ’80s new wave using the small radio I purchased at a garage sale.

One moment, I’ll be tuning into “Enjoy the Silence” by Depeche Mode, and the next, I will switch to “OKI DOKI” by Karol G; my neighbors blast electronic dance music across the street.

The city breathes through music, echoing around the block, making stories and dancing through troubled times. This reminder has kept me grounded in calling this place my home.

“Jam Journal” is a rotating column featuring a new Daily Trojan editor in each installment commenting on the music most important to them. Heydy Vasquez is an opinion editor at the Daily Trojan.