We grow up within a culture so steeped in music that by the age of three or four we are singing the ABCs with Big Bird better than we can speak them. A pervasive inculcation of what music is supposed to sound like teaches us to musically discriminate right from the start. Big Bird singing in anything other than the traditional twelve pitch octave of western music scales sounds strange to us, at least to those of us not brought up in the aural din of music played in five note pentatonic scales or songs sung and played in a few semitones. (But for those cultures, the opposite is the case.) By the time we say goodbye to Big Bird, this musical subjectivity evolves into an outright aversion for particular styles of music as opposed to others. Reggae, for some, might be quite repulsive while hillbilly music, ostensibly, might fit ones mental de rigueur quite nicely. Few of us are truly multi-musical. Thus, in the popular sense, there is little desire to experience a hit pastiche of rock, Bach, and rap. Although the perceptual geographer might argue that somewhere in the past, like the emanation of energy from an earthquake, all these seemingly disparate sounds, no matter how they shake you, shared the same mental epicenter. Our technology caters to our exiguous musical tastes by allowing us the ability to selectively program our access to what we call music and what we do not. We place what sounds good to us within the protective walls of frequencies, channels, and file folders. That mix of what we musically desire and nothing else, is then delivered to us privately through a set of earphones. (Thank goodness for earphones!) As a geographer who writes and plays music, reflecting on the personal origins and perhaps motivations of my songs has brought me to some subjective understanding of their value. In that context this paper considers my subjective style and the mental origins of one of my songs entitled, The Same Old Question. Without trying to trick myself into thinking I've outsmarted the writer of Ecclesiastes by coming up with something new under the sun, The Same Old Question is really nothing more than just another same old song. However, given its mental origins in the landscape of my subjective experience, could someone else have passed across the same neck of these perceptual woods? Could someone else have shared the shock of this same mental epicenter?