Music has always been a big part of my life. As a child I was exposed to all genres, as my parents were pretty well-rounded. That being said, to every few weeks of listening to The Beatles or The Ramones or The Temptations, there was a day of listening to Barbara Streisand even though I threatened to jump out of a window. There’s still a song that I hear so vividly in my mind, although I have no idea what it’s called and don’t want to ask for fear that I’ll have to hear it again. My mom listened to what she wanted no matter what. But she made up for those moments by packing six kids in the minivan and allowing us to headbang to Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” in its entirety. I don’t know how she drove with all that hair swooshing around in the back. But I hope to find out one day.
And if you wanted to hear something really hilarious you could just listen to my dad talk over the entire length of American Pie. His hatred for that song was astounding. But instead of turning it off we just let him talk over the whole thing. Then as we got older dad would pick us up in that ever so embarrassing bright red pick up truck and he would be blasting the most ridiculous music. Although some of it doesn’t seem so ridiculous now. I’m thankful my dad was cool enough to listen to Van Halen. Heavy D and the Boyz, not so much. People still talk about it. When 1992 came along so did Dad’s Right Said Fred “I’m Too Sexy” and Color Me Badd’s “I Wanna Sex You Up” cassette singles. I’m not sure what that phase was all about. If that was his version of the mid-life crisis I’ll take it. But I won’t pretend that I didn’t love Color Me Badd for a minute in high school. High School….sigh. I remember the girl who left Geometry hysterical because Eazy E just died. I still laugh about it, horrible as that sounds. But I just could not believe that I was in a class with someone who loved Eazy E that much.
This makes me miss the 90s. I miss MTV. There were actual music videos. I miss Nirvana and the love of my life Layne Staley and Liam Gallagher, that saucy wanker. I miss Cortney Love throwing compacts at Madonna. Now we’ve got d-bags like Kayne West throwing temper tantrums on stage and stealing mics from teeny boppers. No thank you. At least I’ve still got Damon Albarn. I remember sitting on the beach with my best friend and hearing “Girls and Boys’ from someone’s boom box and we just looked at each other knowingly. What we actually knew is still a mystery. But we loved that song. And when I told my cousin about it later she played the “Parklife” album for me. I was 14. I was also hooked. That started my life long love affair with Damon Albarn and anything he touches. What can I say? True Love lasts a lifetime.
Then the shows. Shows, shows, shows. Two a week. Sometimes more. I wore specific “dancing shoes” so I could dance without fear of falling. Although what I was actually doing wouldn’t actually be considered dancing. I made it a point to explore music as much as I could. I listened to everything. I read every blog. I poured through music magazines and friend’s playlists. But where am I now? It hasn’t been very long, but it already feels like it was so long ago. So often you hear kids complain about their parent’s music growing up. “Old people music.” Can someone tell me what the age is when you start to “change?” I don’t listen to Barbara Stresiand, or even the modern-day equivalent. I’m not sure who that would even be, but there are definitely some guilty pleasures that I never would have allowed a few years ago. Most of them I’m still too embarrassed to say out loud. The girl who went to two shows a week, worked at a music club and literally traveled across the country for music seems to be disappearing. Which is fine. I’m not complaining. No one had more fun than me. And I still have fun, it’s just different. But I don’t have the energy or the time now to keep up with that old lifestyle even if I wanted to. I am no longer in a position to spend my last $5 on a PBR. I am however in a position to buy something other than a PBR if I want a beer though, so that’s definitely an improvement. No more afternoons scrolling through records at thrift shops and my ipod is now filled with songs to lull my seven month old to sleep. I guess this is how it starts. I swear I’m still cool. The odds of anyone walking in and finding me dancing on a table and singing at the top of my lungs to Guns N’ Roses in the living room are pretty slim now. And so the world is a better place.
Now I’m counting down the days for the Lady Gaga concert. And watching videos like this:
I confess, I love him. I bet my mom does too.