I think that I'm pretty darn lucky - I like music. Nope, I mean that I really, really like music.
If there is a song playing and it has a good beat, and I'm wearing shorts, one can tell how much I like it by how red my thigh is. If you are my neighbor, I'm pretty sure that you can get some good chuckles by watching my head gyrate to the beat of some good stuff while I'm cutting the lawn.
There is a problem though. 
All music makes me think of people - of friends, of college, of high school - heck even of elementary school (Bay City Rollers' "Saturday Night" anyone. I can still picture being on Bus No. 5 on 146th Street just west of River Road when my brother told me the lyrics - well, his version of the lyrics.) So, that song is tied to him.
A piano solo 1:49 into the Lascivious Biddies "Wichita" reminds me of my dad - don't know why -- he played the violin - but it does.
It is not that I mind thinking of people - I love it. Lovett, Mellencamp, Buffett, U2, and many others are all tied to people and memories - great memories. But there are times when I listen to music that I want it to be just mine. Mine to coast along and relax with.
On the way toward work with No. 4 in the car, I (we) were listening to some 1950's jazz. As I was listening to it I realized that "Oh, this is some music that is kind of new to me and isn't connected to anyone. Hey, that it pretty cool."
Then No. 4 brought me back to the present with a question that I hadn't heard. When I asked her to repeat the question she said, "Would you play the beginning of that song again - I like that one thing."
And with that, all jazz is now tied to her.