I’m starting to sound like an old man. I’m starting to sound like my father. That’s a tough concept to wrap one’s head around as we age as parents, but it’s there and there isn’t much we can do about it. So what brought on this lamentation of age? Was it wisdom? Was it some epiphany about life that mixed with the contemplative nature of growing older and the motion in the universe? Not even close. No, good readers, I’m starting to sound like an old man because my kids’ music sucks, and I told them so.
To be fair, it isn’t “their” music. If you think about it, as I’m sure many of you have, the state of music has always been as such. There has always been mass produced Top-40 crap that has permeated the market to our constant displeasure. “This isn’t music,” we’d lament, pulling out our deep cuts vinyl collection and dusting off the record player to prove a point. That much hasn’t changed. When I was younger, my father took one whiff of the synthesizer heavy 1980s and immediately intervened.
So while I was a physical child of the 1980s (actually born in the late 1970s) I was brought up on the music of the baby boomers. For me, there was Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull (who I’ve seen live four times and would like to forget they made music in the 1980s as it was terrible), The Who, Rolling Stones, Queen, David Bowie (Ziggy Stardust remains one of my favorite albums to date), Traffic, Emerson Lake & Palmer, Electric Light Orchestra, King Crimson (the original masters of progressive rock) and the list goes on. You get the point. I’ve even gone so far as to collect most of these groups albums on vinyl myself. More on that in a moment.