The Kids (and maybe even their elders) are Alright
Is it just me, or do more younger people like the same music as older people these days? I’m not talking a one-to-one match here, more like a Venn diagram with a lot more Venn-ness to it.
When I was younger—say pre-teen through late-teen years—I simply refused to accept the music my parents liked. If I heard “American Pie” one more time I would have gouged my ears off (if that’s possible). Yes, please play me another Jefferson Starship song while transitioning into a prepared lecture on how they used to be Jefferson Airplane and why that’s somehow notable beyond the fact that, to my young ears, they both should have crashed as soon as possible.
And then the Bee Gees and Saturday Night Fever. My parents, still married at the time, literally bought a Twister-style floor mat with footprints on it, all in order to learn the steps from the movie. Never mind that the mat would never stay in place and you were actually learning the “please-don’t-fall-down dance.” But still, over and over, “Staying Alive” and “More than a Woman.” I might as well have just cut my head off and threw it into the lake (I lived in Buffalo at the time, so that was Lake Erie; now when I cut my head off, I throw it into The Bay of Green Bay. That’s actually what we call it here: “The Bay of Green Bay.”).
Sadly, the Rolling Stones survived the transition from my father to my step-father, and they’re still freaking touring! Dante couldn’t imagine such hells. The list goes on and on—I couldn’t listen to Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours until the appropriate nuclear half-life had expired.
Not me. No sir. I was too busy listening to records that played satanic messages when spun in reverse (hence, my present condition), and avidly getting on board for the beginning tremors of popular rap music (“Rapper’s Delight” and “Planet Rock” for those playing at home).
Today, I am the father of two wonderful daughters. They have friends over quite a bit, so I hear them listening to and talking about music, and this wonderful thing has happened that feels different from the age of my generation and that of my parents…we’ve cross pollinated like mad! I drive my elder daughter to band practice and we’re singing Hall & Oates’s “Out of Touch” with the windows down (father of the decade material right there). But on the drive home we’re singing Mitski’s “The Only Heartbreaker” with the same enthusiasm. Yes, my daughter has introduced me to Mitiski who, frankly, rules. One of my elder daughter’s favorite songs is Toto’s “Hold the Line” (I have zero explanation for this), but we rock the heck out of it. She has also brought me into the expanding universe of Taylor Swift, and it’s hard to find two better songs than “All Too Well” and “The Last Great American Dynasty.”
I just find myself meshing with my kids’ tastes in ways I didn’t with my parents’. I mean, my parents somehow permitted me to watch The Exorcist when I was younger than ten years-old and…never again. I was so freaked out, I puked when Linda Blair puked. I also puked when they played The Eagles for the 10 billionth time.
My younger daughter listens to music constantly. She told me she has over 1k songs saved into her “likes” on Spotify. And just like I do with her older sister, we live in an era of great musical detente—if we are driving somewhere she will play The Smiths, then follow that up with Alex G or Tame Impala. Maybe even Fiona Apple.
So the other night, as I was lying in bed reading, I received a text from my younger (from one room over—a whole different post is required for my feelings on texting within a household) that is titled “My Top 10 Favorite Songs Ever.” How cute is that title—so young AND definitive! Behold:
The Start of Something —Voxtrot
Oh! You Pretty Things —David Bowie
Rocket Man —Elton John
Heroes —David Bowie
Your Best American Girl —Mitski
Harvey —Alex G
Anything We Want —Fiona Apple
Lover, You Should Have Come Over —Jeff Buckley
Under Pressure —Queen
Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want —The Smiths
Now, you might say this bends toward my era, but recent soundtracks play a role here. “Heroes” is key on The Perks of Being a Wallflower soundtrack, as are The Smiths, and for some reason I still don’t understand, both daughters watched the Rocket Man biopic together, without parents involved, even though neither of us listens to Elton John much. They loved it! Voxtrot, Mitski, Alex G, and recent Fiona Apple are all things my younger has introduced to me and that I love. I could easily list 25 more examples: Soccer Mommy, The Artic Monkeys, MGMT, Alvvays, and on and on. (She also likes Radiohead more than I do. I can’t explain it.)
Has something changed? A few weeks back I was in Chicago for the Taylor Swift concert, and the downtown streets were overflowing with multi-generational Swifties. I have been reading about how, in entertainment especially, the past refuses to go away and that this is a bad thing: the Barbi film is coming out, Elton John headlined Glastonbury, superheroes from the past are ubiquitous, Tom Cruise is still cruising, Springsteen still plays for three hours in Doc Martens, and I hear we’re remaking Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for the 9th time. Someone is actually making something about Beanie Babies.
Still, there’s something about singing a pop song together with your child (or just someone of a different generation), where you both really mean it, that makes everything and everyone feel all right.