A Music Story

"Nothing separates the generations more than music. By the time a child is eight or nine, he has developed a passion for his own music that is even stronger than his passions for procrastination and weird clothes." - Bill Cosby
 
I knew one day it would happen.  Having daughters I knew it would be bad, too.  I tried to stop it but I was unsuccessful.  Well, I have been so far anyway.  Over the weekend recently I realized just how bad the differences between my daughters and I were when it comes to our taste in music.  Two words...Camp Rock.  Enough said.

I love Sirius radio.  Not enough to pay for it in my car of course.  I don't need it because we have a number of channels on our television satellite at home.  Thankfully, the 80's, 90's, and Classic Rock stations are on there.  Thankfully, Radio Disney is not.

Sunday was sort of normal, and sort of not.  Ashley was out of town due to family issues and I was home...alone...with all three girls.  Hannah arrived recently (Thank You, Lord).  We got up and went to church and later cleaned house (normal).  Again, Ashley was out of town leaving me alone with all of them for four days (not normal).

Anyway, on the way to church I was shuffling music from my iPod.  Notice I said MY iPod.  This will be significant in a few seconds.  After a song I liked ended, a Camp Rock song started.  You would have thought that Jonas kid fell from the sky, through the sun roof, and into our car.  My once lethargic and disinterested daughters started singing, bouncing in their seats, and screaming for me to turn it up.  Riley simply followed Hannah and Cooper and started shrieking.  Oh what a difference between "daddy's music," and "our music."  Go ahead and make fun of me.  I understand.  I have an iPod full of Disney pop princess music and Kids Bop.  I never thought it would happen.

So there we were driving down 82nd Street.  My girls were rocking out to Disney pop music while daddy looked to the driver next to me as if to plead for help because my radio was being hijacked and held captive by little girls.  I am pretty sure my ears started bleeding from that noise.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon.  We are cleaning the house and I have the satellite turned to Sirius "80's on 8."  Now, I was born in the 70's.  I will spare you the year except to say it was in the early 70's.  I remember music from the late 70's and 80's very well.  A song comes on and I can tell you the year it was released.  Yes, you can be jealous that I possess such useless knowledge.

Anyway, there I am "rocking out" to some 80's rock song while I am folding laundry.  My once energetic daughters are now lethargic and disinterested and begging for me to turn it down.  Maybe it was because they did not appreciate the "classic" status of the music, or it could have been because they were embarrassed their father was acting like a teenager...while folding their jammies and socks.

Hannah and Cooper are old enough to have their distinct taste in music.  If it is that Bieber kid, a Disney artist, or something from the Glee cast...they love it.  Their father is more interested in stuff like Stevie Ray Vaughan, Queen, Clapton, BB King, etc, etc.  I just hope they don't get to my iPod and erase my stuff and replace it all with that stuff the kids are listening to today.  Yes, that made me sound old and grumpy.  You listen to Camp Rock over, and over, and over and see how you behave.