Saturday, December 13, 2008

Just Don't Ask Me To DJ Your Next Party

Apparently, I have really bad taste in music.

I know, it came as a shock to me too.
In fact, it occurred to me (as most things do) while I was in the shower.
There's just something about the hot water and my peppermint soap and my cat whining because I've been out of his line of sight for more than twelve seconds that makes the environment prefect for epiphanies.
The harsh reality of my less-than-perfect musical tendencies was what I happened upon today.

Stay tuned: tomorrow I'm going to figure out how to solve the budget crisis.

Now, let's be clear: bad taste is not to be confused with lack of respect.
I have plenty of respect for decent music. Which is probably why my penchant for musical bastardizations is such a mystery to me.

I grew up in a household where we listened to The Beatles and The Allman Brothers and Lynyrd Skynyrd. That's how cool my parent's were. (do YOUR kids listen to Skynyrd? Didn't think so.)
This part makes sense, because my parents are products of the era that pretty much shaped the world, pop-culturally speaking. In other words, they knew what good music was.
In fact, they still do. My Dad is often the proud owner of the best tickets his credit card can find whenever people like Paul Simon (the singer, not the dead senator...obviously) or Crosby, Stills, and Nash come to town. They're in they're fifties, by the way (do YOUR parent's jam out at super-awesome concerts with America's rock legends? Didn't think so).
As such, we were only exposed to what can only be described as "non-crappy music."
They also did a pretty good job of sheltering us guessed it: crappy music.
In fact, I wasn't even aware that the 80's and early 90's had musical movements (which is pretty amazing considering I was actually born smack-dab in the middle of one of those decades and was most certainly lucid for much of the other one, but whatever), until high school rolled around and we got VH1 and I started watching a whole lot of "Pop-Up Video".
But that's another story.

I also didn't know who people like Nelson and Poison actually were until I became friends with Marie, and she proceeded to warp my fragile little Sgt. Pepper's-shaped mind with cassette mix-tapes and foolishness like tight-rolling and day-glo.
She's so 80's sometimes.

My siblings even managed to inherit out parent's cool music genes.

Do those actually come in genetic form? Can we maybe use my obvious lack-there-of as final proof that I am really adopted?
I'll look in to it.

But, back to the music.

Joey loves his classic rock.
Truly, madly, deeply.
He's even got more than his fair share of Led Zeppelin posters in his old room at my parent's house. One of them might even be a cloth tapestry.
Such a good little flower child, he is.

Janie loves it, too.
But she's more into the singer-songwriters.
For example, Jack Johnson and John Mayer. While their respective musical talent might be debatable, no one can deny the mass-appeal of their respective abilities to write amazing lyrics.
Also, I'm pretty sure that both are on my sister's freebie list.

In addition to their individual tastes, they share a mutual adoration for Dave Matthews and his band of merry-makers.
Or just simply DMB, if you wanna hang with the cool kids.
They don't just love him.
They worship the very ground he plays his guitar on.
Every single summer, you can count on them camping out and spending insane amounts of money on a whole week's worth of Dave tickets when he makes his yearly pilgrimage to Alpine (may it rest in peace).

Now, I've enjoyed a Dave Matthew's concert or two in my time (no not like THAT, Mom).
I can get down with some Zeppelin.
I own Jack Johnson AND John Mayer albums.
I have almost every single classic-rock "pioneer" band on my iTunes.
John, Paul, George and Ringo are good buddies of mine.
Johnny Cash is listed as one of my favorite artist on both my MySpace and Facebook.
I even enjoy a little Dylan from time to time, although I try to keep it to a minimum because my mother hates him (which is strange to me, because wasn't he like the voice of her generation, or something?).

Not to mention that I'm consistently surrounding myself with people that hold vast wealth's of knowledge concerning modern music, as well.
Chelsea brought me The Kaiser Chiefs and The Shins.
Molly gave me David Gray and all the music from the "Alias" soundtrack.
Blake had introduced me to...everything else there is to know about music as it exists in the present day. Seriously. Good thing he makes really great mix CD's.

If all of the above is true, then why in the blue hell am I drawn to such awful melodies to complete the soundtrack of my everyday life?
I mean, if it's somewhere on the top 40 and is written by someone who had also starred in 3 movies/TV shows this year and has the words "baby girl" in it, count on me to crank up the volume when Ryan Seacrest introduces it.
No, I don't actually listen to Ryan Seacrest, but you get the picture.

I don't know what to do, or how to stop it.
I am at a loss.
Songs like "If I were a Boy" (Beyonce), "Leavin'" (Jesse McCartney) and "So What?" (Pink) cannot be good for my health and well-being.
Yet I still love them so (are YOUR musical tastes this lame? Didn't think so).

Send help people.
Send help and Rolling Stone now.

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