The other day as I was puttering about, listening to music via Pandora on my ipod, a song came on that I didn’t quite recognize. It sounded an awful lot like The Police, but the chorus was too poppy to be them. Pat called down, inquiring what was I listening to. I checked the artist name and called back.
“You listening to Edie’s station?”
I’m not sure what threw me more – the fact that my child had just inadvertently introduced me to new music or the fact that our music tastes have become similar enough that I can tolerate listening (albeit unknowingly) to her music for a lengthy period of time.
We have long prided ourselves on Edie’s musical education. I steadfastly refuse to listen to her music in the car or over any sort of speakers that belong to me. When we created the den and moved the entertainment unit into the back bedroom, she was finally allowed to play her music on the big stereo. Up until that point, her music stayed in her room, on her boombox. I played her Sonic Youth as lullabies, she has tolerated Smiths marathons on the part of her father & myself, our neverending debate as to which was the better Pink Floyd album, Dark Side or The Wall, was what taught Edie to just go put herself to bed already to avoid having to listen to that One.More.Time. She came home from second grade, rapturous about a song her friend played, “Crazy Train”, had we ever heard it? prompting Pat to reach into the CD drawers and hand her the Ozzy Osbourne Randy Rhodes tribute CD to listen to. She can recognize The Clash as Muzak at the grocery store. She can recognize The Grateful Dead playing both Bob Dylan AND Pink Floyd songs. You can never play “Won’t Get Fooled Again” too loud for her ears.
We thought we were raising her right, but there came the day where she wanted to listen to what her friends were listening to. She’s developed quite an appreciation for Taylor Swift. Pat is kind and humors her in this. He’ll even listen to her music in the car. Okay, that happened because as they were driving somewhere one day, sitting there with her headphones on, singing along to her music, she sang louder than he could play Slayer. Eventually, he gave it up and caved. (And I’m sure that as he reads this, he’s thinking I’ve misrepresented him. I’m sure he would say something along the lines of he’s listening along with her as to not entirely turn her towards the crap (okay, he wouldn’t call it the crap either. He’d be much nicer about it, but since I’m the one writing this, you get my synopsis.), and it while it gives him a chance to check out what she’s listening to, it also allows him to show interest in what she’s interested in. Yes, he’s a great dad.)
I’m not at sure how I feel about her introducing me to new music. Really, it’s not bad, after all, I thought it was The Police. Follow this link and watch his SNL performance last fall. That’s good shit. That band is tight. And full of energy and clearly having a good time doing it. This may replace Justin Timberlake as my favorite guilty pleasure.
However, I’m pretty sure me taking Edie up on her offer to borrow her ipod for tunes is exactly why it was 74 degrees two days ago and snow is forecast tonight.