Apparently what I listened to growing up in the 80’s and 90’s could now be considered oldies. I think it should just be called “back in the day”. Wham, Def Leopard, Poison, White Snake. Nirvana, Pearl jam, No Doubt, Alanis Morriset.
Then there is the stuff my parents listened to. My first concert was to Lynyrd Skynyrd with my parents. I loved it. I used to love going through their cd’s. Jethro Tull. Led Zeppelin, The Eagles, Steve Miller Band, Queen. Isn’t it great to hear how music has changed through the decades?
Imagine if we could take today’s music back 250 years to Beethoven’s time. Would they be appalled or fascinated?
I’m guessing the older crowd would be appalled while the kids would dig it. If you haven’t seen A Knight’s Tale, I reccommend it. Imagine a story set during medieval times, but also set to today’s music. It’s so much fun when they play “The Boys Are Back In Town” when the heroes arrive.
Anyway, today I thought I’d introduce the boys to some music of bygone eras. First, they heard Pearl Jam’s, Evenflow. They’d never heard of Pearl Jam until today. They liked it. Good thing too. I may have disowned them, otherwise. Listening to Eddie Vedder crank it out took me back to my university days. I had a roommate that didn’t just love Pearl Jam, but slightly resembled Eddie and could also sing like him.
After that, we took a trip a bit farther back in time. Back to my parent’s days. Steppenwolf’s Magic Carpet Ride. They loved the name of the song. It was the first thing they noticed while waiting for the guitar to build up in the beginning. Then the beat kicked in and they were suddenly boosterseat dancing. They thought Dad was nuts for singing along. Surprisingly they didn’t stop me. Normally, Bang screams when someone sings along to the music.
The song ended and a few seconds of silence follows as we quietly anticipate the next song. We were just pulling into the driveway when T.N.T. starts pumping from the speakers. I throw my hands in the air flashing traditional rock and roll signage…
…my head starts nodding slowly at first and by the time “Oy! Oy! Oy!” is over I’m full on headbanging and shredding my air guitar as if I had just channelled the soul of Angus Young himself. We listened to the entire song. Me in the front seat jamming and the boys in the back seat listening to the song and wondering what the hell happened to their father. At the end, with AC/DC’s grand finale to that song, Crash comments, “That’s how rock and roll songs end! They must be the masters of Rock and Roll.”
Yes, son. They are. But don’t be fooled. They aren’t the only Masters of Rock and Roll. They are just a favorite of your Dear Old Dad.