My first memory of music was somewhere back in the early 1980’s. I believe my mother bought me a Blondie album and I can remember playing the record over and over again. In retrospect, I have no idea why my mother would buy me a Blondie album (considering she was a Neil Diamond kind-of gal), but pleased I was introduced to such cool music.
As I grew older, my taste in music changed. As a preteen, I was a NKTOB fan – yes, New Kids on the Block. Joey MacIntyre was my favorite and yes, I did see them on their reunion tour several years ago in addition to the three times I saw them when I was 12. Don’t judge.
Somewhere in high school, I was listening to both Cynthia /Johnny O and REM. And yes, I realize these bands sit on the opposite ends of the spectrum, but I chalk it up to finding myself. By college, I had found my grove. Pearl Jam, Indigo Girls, Grateful Dead, The Black Crowes, all graced my voice mail machine back in those days – much to the chagrin of my family who had to endure at least one chorus of a song before I would even say “Hi! Sorry I missed your call….”
Years later as an adult and mother of two children, I find myself in the genre of alternative rock. On my iPod we have Arcade Fire, We are Augustines, Wilco, Mumford and Sons just to name a few. You can also find any clean version of a Pop40 song sung by a group of children who sound possessed courtesy of something called KidzBop.
And now to the point of this post.
We spend our lives always trying to listen to OUR music. Take for instance, car rides. As kids, we ask our parents if we can listen to our music (back in the day when only one radio served the car). With some negotiation, we could get in a song two.
As we became the drivers, calling shotgun was easy. So long as we were driving with friends, the music selection was ours. Eventually, we meet that significant other and we learn to listen to appreciate each others’ music. We think of it as accepting each other and well, we are in love so who really cares what is playing.
Then one day after marriage, you look back to the rear of the car and two little people you gave birth to are smiling from ear to ear. You are rocking out to Baby Einstein and the Laurie Berkner Band like there is tomorrow. But then, at some point those cute toddlers become children who are – for lack of a better word – favoring music that just isn’t your cup of tea.
And just like that, your music history has come full circle.
On long car rides, we share the iPod. The four of us – Hubby, Big Sister, Little Man and I each get a choice and we rotate equally and fairly. Any given car ride can produce a playlist of Men Without Hats, One Direction, Taylor Swift and BellX1. It’s an eclectic mix for sure but I like to think of it as expanding my comfort zone…….!