I heard music from infancy onward. I actually remember music as a very distinct feeling as far back as 2 yrs old. I have pictures of my twin brother and me sitting in our high chairs at dinner time. My mother was feeding us (food we immediately threw at each other) while my father played the record player and grooved. He typically played Duke Elllington, Count Basie or Woody Herman at dinner. Later on it was all classical.
I was allowed to drop the needle on the big, fancy record player at age 5 or so (after having destroyed my own record player and records). At that age I loved practically every type of music I heard. For me there were no distinctions between (for example), Beethoven symphonies, John Philip Sousa marches, and the theme from the TV show, Dragnet. Pretty much all music made me swoon. It was always an otherworldly experience. My mind travelled far and wide whenever music was on.
I didn’t know it until much later, but my music appreciation was greatly aided by a striking case of synesthesia: I perceived music not only as sound but also as colorful visual informaiton. I closed my eyes and saw ever expanding geometric and architectural shapes, quite specific to each piece of music. After that, the acid and mescaline trips years later seemed oddly familar.
Very little changed over the years: music moves me intensely, as it always has. I learned a great deal about what I was hearing; was able to pursue deep explorations of classical and jazz. And within classical, my tastes are strongly tied to choral/liturgical music from any era; and modernity (dissonance is totally fine for me). And of course, chasing audio improvements has further aided my enjoyment of music.
The day I stop caring a LOT about music is the day I leave this earth.