Glen Miller, Now That's Music

My mom hates the kids music. We were talking the other day about my nephew and his mom going to see 'Fall Down Boy', and mom seemed perplexed by just the name. That's nothing new, forty-five years ago she said the same thing about my music, and even mocked a Lovin Spoonful song I was listening to on the radio. "What kind of song is that? Singing about a dirty neck, that's just nasty.”

Every generation thinks their music was the best and has nothing but scorn for the "crap" that the youngsters are listening to now. I myself hate, no, despise, most of the junk that passes for pop music today. It seems that every few months a new Disney discovery is foisted upon us, and we have to listen to some squeaky clean suburban girl or boy sing about their tortured emotions, accompanied by fake electronic music.

The funny thing is that the older I get the more I agree with mom. Forty-five years ago, you couldn't have convinced me that anything that was ever to come out of my mouth would sound anything like my mom or dad. Today I found myself screaming at Mark about not air-conditioning the entire neighborhood. The words I used were very similar to what my dad used to scream at me, although my dad's rant would have been more along the lines of, "I'm not heating the entire fucking neighborhood, close that goddamned door!". In my version, the word 'heating' wasn't used. Another thing my dad used to scream about was my choice of music. It was usually when he got in the car after I had used it, and the radio would be on my station, "Turn that crap off!! NOW!!. I was reminded of this the other day when I got in the car and Mark had some horrible radio station on. My response was almost verbatim what my dad used to say. The only difference was that I inserted the word 'rap' before the word 'crap'.