Rockin' On

Liz over at Mom-101 recently blogged about her antiquated knowledge of the music scene nowadays. Her "Old Fart Musical Creed" is witty and made me realize that my own musical knowledge is falling embarrassingly behind.

With my own little rugrat quickly approaching the age where he repeats everything he hears (note to self--stop saying shit so often), it's made me think a lot about my own music choices. In particular, I'm really not sure what to do with the fact that the station I listen to most often has a DJ whose favorite word is douche bag. But, damn it, I'm just not ready to be old enough for a mix station.

I like music that rocks. I was a child of the 90s alternative scene who bought CDs like some people buy cinamochanillafukachinos and went to countless concerts in college. I even went to Woodstock '99--that ill-fated one that disintegrated into a riot.

My mother was so proud.*

I think I had this idea that by liking hard, raunchy rock, I was making a statement about my own independence and strength. You would never catch me at an Ani Difranco concert. The only girl bands I would listen to were Garbage or Hole. I still like my rock to, well, rock. I loved that when I was pregnant, the baby seemed to react to Green Day and Metallica more than other artists. On the way to the hospital in labor with Little Man, and I saw it as a good omen that Bawitaba was playing and it was a little Rage that got me through hour 5.

Now that I'm older and a littler more distanced from that time in my life, I'm starting to wonder why I listened to some of the more misogynistic of the late 1990s bands. I'm also starting to realize I am hopelessly out of touch. You know you're getting old when you're pregnant and nauseas at a Foo Fighter's concert. Rock on.

So, in homage to mom-101, my own declaration of my transition into old-fartdom.

I accept that the world of hip (is that even what the kids are saying now?) music is swiftly passing me by.

I accept that I will probably never catch up with the musical trends, and I am becoming less and less likely to want to.

I accept that I am completely confused about what emo is and that I'm not even a little embarrassed that I think it sounds suspiciously like a type of muppet.

I accept that Kid Rock, Limp Bizkit, and Korn were all fairly terrible mistakes.

I accept that today's youngins only know who Gavin Rosdale is because he's Gwen Stefani's babydaddy. (Whatever that means.) And they only know Gwen from some terrible song about bananas.

I accept that I do not, and probably will not ever know what a milkshake is, care that London bridge is falling down, understand why someone would name themself Qtip, or say "fitty" when referring to 50 cent.

I accept that because of mp3s and the wonders of itunes, I will probably never again have a favorite song that is not already playing on the radio somewhere.


So what do you think? Anything to add to my musical credo? Post away--



* So proud, in fact, that she wouldn't speak to me for days after.