More and more, I have that experience of speaking earnestly, or with enthusiasm, to my kids about something and then watching as the curtain draws slowly shut across their face. For example, I was explaining recently about the concept of a "record album," a collection of songs recorded for play in a certain order that people used to listen to over and over again, with the result that to this day, if I hear "Thunder Road" somewhere, soon as it's over I hear in my head the first notes of "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" and am genuinely startled when the next sound is anything else. Bizarre-o!
I assure them that I am familiar with the concept of a "playlist," but do not partake as it prevents you from being exposed to new things, with the result that you sink into fuddyduddism. It is highly amusing to them that I should declare myself "open" to "new things" on the same day that I complain about young teen fashion. Have they noticed that with "new" jeans you pay a lot extra for big rips across the thigh?
They wouldn't be interested, but the other day I listened to the Emmylou Harris station on Pandora while pedaling my stationary bike in the basement. Within about 45 minutes, I heard all the following, all great (or at least enjoyable), and all I believe unknown to me five years ago.
- Emmylou Harris, "Red Dirt Girl"
- Emmylou Harris and John Prine, "Angel from Montgomery"
- Alison Krauss, "When You Say Nothing At All"
- Emmylou Harris (with Willie Nelson), "Gulf Coast Highway"
- John Prine and Nanci Griffith, "Speed of the Sound of Loneliness"
- Emmylou Harris, covering Townes Van Zandt's "If I Needed You"
- Merle Haggard, "Mama Tried"
If I made them listen to any of these, they'd laugh me into the 2020's.
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