Probably anything I have come to know about music began in a little town called Bagan Serai, in Perak, Malaysia. It was 1970. It was there at my godparents' house that I first heard Yellow River, the mammoth hit for the band Christie.

Fast forward forty years to my time in Taiping, Perak, where we resided for nearly three years. Near our home flowed a yellow stream beneath a concrete bridge. During the early evenings, I would take my two-year-old boy for rides on my trusty kapchai motorbike.

Every time we passed that bridge, a familiar ritual unfolded. We would spontaneously burst into our own rendition of "Yellow River," albeit mostly out of tune, barely making it past the first few lines before succumbing to laughter.

Those were precious moments that made me realize how life had come full circle, connecting back to the care free and innocent Yellow River of Bagan Serai days.

On another occasion, one of the Joe brothers put this 45rpm record on the portable turntable. It was a no holds barred introduction to contemporary southern rock.

It was years later that I grasped the true meaning behind songs like "Have You Ever Seen The Rain" and "Fortunate Son." The former had little to do with the rain itself, while the latter was a scathing reference to rich and well-connected folks who orchestrated wars and drafted the helpless to fight in them.

The lyrics painted a deeper socio-political context. But at that age, I was blissfully ignorant of the fact, and perhaps it was for the best. At the time, all that truly mattered was the music itself. It wasn't until a decade later, as my awareness expanded, that CCR would be resurrected in my mind with a newfound appreciation and understanding.

My brothers and I spent most of the school holidays in Bagan Serai; we had sort of an “exchange program” going – my god-brothers would come over to Butterworth, some 36 miles up north, and we would do the return pilgrimage.

I learnt to ride the bicycle along the narrow canal paths that meandered through the town, played at the rice godowns, watched Christopher Lee in The Oblong Box in the cinema, and got hooked on Monopoly for hours on an amazing homemade set. And learned of a Rose Garden for the first time.

In memory of Lynn Anderson. Thank you for the music. May you rest in eternal peace.

In retrospect, my humble beginnings in Bagan Serai and the simple joys of riding by the yellow stream in Taiping hold a special place in my heart. They remind me that music has the power to weave memories, connect generations, and reveal profound truths if we let them.

Here’s to yellow rivers, rock and roll bands, Bagan Serai, wonderful god-brothers and charming small towns everywhere. Cheers!