I grew up listening to Oasis and The Verve; English music was

The words of Dean Lewis speak with the intimacy of memory and the power of heritage: “I grew up listening to Oasis and The Verve; English music was huge in my house.” Though simple in form, they carry the essence of how art shapes a soul long before the soul itself takes flight. To grow up under the weight of song is to be molded by it, to have one’s dreams and emotions shaped by unseen hands. The music of others becomes the soil in which one’s own music takes root.

The ancients knew this truth, though they spoke of it in different ways. The Greeks raised their children on the epics of Homer, and those stories formed the character of their people. The Romans sang the songs of Virgil to kindle civic pride and memory of destiny. So too did Dean Lewis grow beneath the roof where English music played not as background, but as a teacher. For to hear Oasis and The Verve in youth was to breathe the air of longing, defiance, melancholy, and hope—those very emotions that would later guide his own voice.

Consider how Oasis, with their anthems of boldness and yearning, inspired countless youth to believe that even ordinary lives could burst into greatness. Their music declared that emotion, raw and unvarnished, could fill stadiums and stir nations. The Verve, with their sweeping soundscapes and haunting lyrics, taught a different lesson: that art can bear sorrow and beauty in the same breath, that music is not only celebration but reflection. Together, these bands created a legacy that spilled into Dean Lewis’s home and shaped the very rhythm of his becoming.

This is no different from the story of Beethoven, who as a boy listened to the works of Mozart and Haydn. Their melodies carved channels in his soul, and though he would later create music that shattered old forms, he did so on a foundation built by those he had listened to in his youth. Every great creator first becomes a listener, every voice is first an echo of another. Lewis’s admission is therefore universal: we are all born into the music of others, and it becomes the seed of what we create ourselves.

The lesson is clear: what you surround yourself with in youth becomes the compass of your future. The songs in your house, the stories you repeat, the voices you choose to listen to—all these shape your vision of what is possible. If the voices are shallow, your imagination may remain shallow; if they are deep, your soul may find its depth. Dean Lewis did not grow up in silence; he grew up in a house filled with sound, and that sound prepared him to one day add his own voice to the chorus of the world.

O seeker, remember this wisdom: feed yourself with the art that uplifts, challenges, and deepens you. Do not treat music, words, or images as mere entertainment, for they are food for the soul. The echoes you allow into your life will form the foundation of your own expression. Just as Dean Lewis carried Oasis and The Verve within him, so too will you carry the voices of what you consume.

Practical action follows: choose wisely what fills your ears and your heart. Listen to music that stirs greatness, read words that stretch your vision, surround yourself with voices that lift you higher. Let them dwell in your house, and they will dwell also in your spirit. For one day, when you speak or create, it will not be from emptiness, but from a rich store of influences transformed into something uniquely your own.

Thus, the teaching is this: what fills your house fills your soul, and what fills your soul shapes your destiny. Dean Lewis’s remembrance is not nostalgia alone—it is a reminder that greatness begins in what we absorb long before we begin to create. Let your influences be noble, let them be profound, and in time, you too will give birth to art that echoes across generations.