There will be the requisite pictures of Daphne interspersed throughout this post, but I’d like to pause and talk about music for a moment if I might.
There are some who might say I’m a little picky, perhaps even elitist, when it comes to my musical choices. And I am okay with wearing these admonishments. Because they’re absolutely true.
I have never once turned on the FM radio in my car.
I actively seek out my music, rather than allow it to be simply delivered unto me.
I have a Technics SL1200 MK2 (that’s a record player), wired into the speakers in my living room.
I’ve seen countless seminal 90’s/00’s bands before most people had ever heard of them.
I am a music snob.
Having said this, you can imagine how difficult it is for me to listen to the same two Taylor Swift songs every morning while my daughter sits transfixed by them.
It feels like I’m betraying both of us.
Why is this thing not playing “Shake It Off?”
But that’s not the point. My point is that I’m having some trouble listening to said music as a dad/”older person.”
This occurred to me on Tuesday when the Radiohead single “Burn the Witch,” as well as the new Aesop Rock album, both dropped.
Now, the Radiohead song feels like an appropriate choice for someone in his 40’s.
An Islamophobic parable, thinly veiled in ‘Dadrock’
And it’s fine. It’s pretty good actually. You know, despite owning all of their albums, I’m not a huge fan of Radiohead. I like their methodology, I like their politics, I like their aesthetic, but their music just doesn’t speak to me.
I honestly think I own all their albums because I’m supposed to.
Aesop Rock, on the other hand, now that is some amazing stuff. I’m digging the hell out of that record. But I do recognize that it’s rather anachronistic music for a greying father in his 40’s, cruising the narrow streets of a master planned community with the windows down, to be listening to.
You probably won’t like this; don’t bother clicking it.
I imagine that there’s more than a bit of eye rolling, clucking disapproval, and/or disparaging remarks about mid-life crises as I drive by.
Posted: May 5, 2016 · Leave a Comment
Age of Audio
Hi there.
There will be the requisite pictures of Daphne interspersed throughout this post, but I’d like to pause and talk about music for a moment if I might.
There are some who might say I’m a little picky, perhaps even elitist, when it comes to my musical choices. And I am okay with wearing these admonishments. Because they’re absolutely true.
I have never once turned on the FM radio in my car.
I actively seek out my music, rather than allow it to be simply delivered unto me.
I have a Technics SL1200 MK2 (that’s a record player), wired into the speakers in my living room.
I’ve seen countless seminal 90’s/00’s bands before most people had ever heard of them.
I am a music snob.
Having said this, you can imagine how difficult it is for me to listen to the same two Taylor Swift songs every morning while my daughter sits transfixed by them.
It feels like I’m betraying both of us.
But that’s not the point. My point is that I’m having some trouble listening to said music as a dad/”older person.”
This occurred to me on Tuesday when the Radiohead single “Burn the Witch,” as well as the new Aesop Rock album, both dropped.
Now, the Radiohead song feels like an appropriate choice for someone in his 40’s.
An Islamophobic parable, thinly veiled in ‘Dadrock’
And it’s fine. It’s pretty good actually. You know, despite owning all of their albums, I’m not a huge fan of Radiohead. I like their methodology, I like their politics, I like their aesthetic, but their music just doesn’t speak to me.
I honestly think I own all their albums because I’m supposed to.
Aesop Rock, on the other hand, now that is some amazing stuff. I’m digging the hell out of that record. But I do recognize that it’s rather anachronistic music for a greying father in his 40’s, cruising the narrow streets of a master planned community with the windows down, to be listening to.
You probably won’t like this; don’t bother clicking it.
I imagine that there’s more than a bit of eye rolling, clucking disapproval, and/or disparaging remarks about mid-life crises as I drive by.
The thought of which makes me smirk a little.
And turn it up.
j.s.
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