Turn It On Again: And the Band Played On
Still Playing—Even When the Music Changes
Phil Collins can’t drum anymore. But the music didn’t stop.
Peter Frampton’s hands are weakening. But the song still plays.
And yet, they are still musicians.
I know that feeling—the frustration, the grief, the longing for what once came effortlessly.
Frampton faces a different fight. Inclusion body myositis is stealing his strength—slowly, relentlessly. His fingers, once capable of bending notes into something transcendent, now struggle to press the frets.
And yet, he plays on.
He adapts. He sits when he can’t stand. He plays softer when his grip weakens.
“I’m not giving up,” he says.
I get it.
Because I wasn’t just an athlete.
I was movement.
I was strength.
I was independence.
I ran. I skied. I traveled the world. There were no limits—no walls.
And then, suddenly, there were.
Walls that trapped me. Defined me. Told me where I could and couldn’t go.
At first, they felt immovable.
But like Collins, like Frampton, I realized something:
I can still push.
So I push. Not just to move, but to keep the walls as far away as possible.
Show Me the Way
Frampton still plays because music is who he is. Even if it’s harder now, he still finds a way to connect—with his guitar, his audience, himself.
Even when he couldn’t drum anymore, Collins stood on stage and gave fans everything he had left.
And me? I may not move the way I used to, but that doesn’t mean I stop moving.
I won’t let the walls close in. I keep pushing, stretching the limits of what’s possible—because, like Frampton, like Collins, I can’t stop doing what I love.
It’s just a different rhythm now.
Against All Odds
Frampton once said:
“I’ve brushed myself off, got myself up, and changed directions.”
That’s the essence of resilience.
Phil Collins couldn’t drum anymore, but he could still sing.
Peter Frampton can’t play as he once did, but he’s still playing.
And me? I may not have the freedom I once did, but I still fight for every inch of it. No shame in a slice of Humble Pie—life changes, bodies change, but passion stays
My wheels don’t move like my legs once did, but they still push me forward.
My body doesn’t travel as easily, but I still find a way.
And the walls?
They only close in if I stop pushing.
Purpose outlasts ability.
Passion adapts.
Identity isn’t tied to just one thing.
Maybe you can’t do what you once did.
Maybe life blindsided you.
Maybe you feel like you’re losing yourself.
I get it.
But you’re still you. And as long as you’re here, you still have something to give.
So give it. Push the walls back.
Because the music doesn’t stop—just because the song changes.
And neither should you.
Love what you’re writing about. Thank you!
Really great piece Ronny!! Very moving.