I have always enjoyed music. From Led Zeppelin and Nickleback to Norah Jones and Nat King Cole, my taste is eclectic, mood-oriented, and, thanks to iTunes, always available. I like to plug in my iPod to the computer speakers, turn up the volume, and rock away while I do chores, cook dinner, or work on a project. (An iHome is on my Christmas wish list.)
Yet, now as I do the mom thing and drive my daughter from one thing to another, she and I are fighting over the Odyssey's radio. She wants to listen to pop music, flipping back and forth among her favorite three stations; I want to leave it tuned to public radio. (If I hear about daisy dukes and a bikini top one more time, I'll scream.) My daughter thinks it's hilarious; I'm wincing inside because I sound just like the cliched old mom. Sometimes, I let her choose. Most of the time, I say, "my car, my station."
Fact is, I don't think much of current music. There are a few here and there I like, but the preponderence of sexual and violent innuendo and cultural language just leaves me cold. Give me a hard-driving guitar riff or delicate cello concerto any time.
Yeah, the generation thing has happened. I'm old school, my kid has her finger on the next hot song.
Let the peace negotiations begin.