I listen to everything that sounds good with a story. I even

“I listen to everything that sounds good with a story. I even listen to Adele. I listen to all kinds of music. Everything with a story that I can listen to and close my eyes and visualize it. I just love music.” Thus spoke Rod Wave, a bard of our age, whose words carry the eternal truth that music is not merely a pattern of notes but a vessel of story. For sound without story is hollow, but when song bears a tale, it touches the deepest places of the human spirit. He confesses that his love is not bound by genre nor fashion, but by the ability of a song to create visions in the mind and awaken emotions in the heart.

The origin of this truth lies in the ancient role of music itself. Long before records or stages, long before the cities of men, there were songs sung by firelight. These songs were stories—of heroes and gods, of love and loss, of journeys across mountains and seas. The poet sang not merely to entertain, but to preserve memory, to pass wisdom from one generation to the next. In this tradition, Rod Wave stands; he listens not for beats alone, but for the narrative, for the soul within the song that paints pictures in the imagination.

History gives us many examples of this union between song and story. Consider the Homeric epics, The Iliad and The Odyssey, which were first sung, not written. Their power lay not only in rhythm but in narrative: warriors battling for honor, a hero wandering seas, gods bending fate. These songs were the lifeblood of Greece, teaching its people who they were and what they valued. Just as Rod Wave closes his eyes and envisions the world within a song, so did the ancients close their eyes to hear of Troy and Ithaca, and see them brought to life.

Or look to the spirituals of the enslaved in America. These songs were woven with story—of sorrow in bondage, of hope for freedom, of faith in a God who heard their cries. When they sang “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” they were not reciting empty words; they were telling the story of deliverance, both earthly and divine. In their songs, listeners could see beyond chains to a promised land. Here again, music as story became vision, courage, and survival.

Rod Wave’s devotion also reveals the power of openness. He does not limit himself to one style, one voice, one tradition. He listens to Adele, to rap, to all forms that carry story. This openness is itself a form of wisdom. For the soul that learns from many stories grows richer, broader, more compassionate. Just as a traveler who visits many lands becomes wise through exposure, so too does the listener who embraces many kinds of music become attuned to the full tapestry of human experience.

The lesson for us is clear: seek not music that is only pleasing to the ear, but music that speaks to the soul. Find the songs that tell a story, that awaken vision within you. Close your eyes when you listen—see the scenes unfold, feel the characters breathe, let the tale shape your heart. And if you create, then create with story; let your music or art or work be something that paints visions for others, something that lives beyond mere sound or form.

Therefore, let each person act with intention. When you choose what to hear, choose not only what is popular but what is meaningful. Listen across boundaries—different cultures, different voices, different genres—for every people has their stories in song. In this way, you will grow not only in taste but in wisdom, and your heart will be enlarged by the many visions of humanity.

So let Rod Wave’s words remain in your spirit: “Everything with a story that I can listen to and close my eyes and visualize it. I just love music.” Take them as both confession and command. For the love of music is, at its root, the love of story, and the love of story is the love of humanity. Embrace it, and your life will be filled not only with sound, but with vision, with meaning, and with beauty that endures.