It's too loud and I'm too old
Jeff as the Good Uncle – and because he got the ‘creative gene’ - has been working on designing the invitation’s for his nieces Bat Mitzvah in January. He came up with a novel idea of giving CD’s with music selections as the actual invitation. The quandary was coming up with a CD that suited the three identified groups being invited: the niece’s peer group, his brother and sister-in-law’s age range, and the grandparent’s age range. We settled on developing three different, age-appropriate CD’s of music, each from its own era, to reflect the different groups.
It’s obvious as the age range gets older, the music gets slower and more quiet. I’m finding that about describes the current direction of my aging, as it were. Not old, per say, but getting there.
So not being hip to what kids are listening to these days, we made a cursory attempt at the top 10 listing on MTV’s TRL and other well-known compilation lists. We quickly became discouraged at the complete lack on our parts of being able to identify or acknowledge knowing any performer or group on those lists so turned, inevitably, to the niece, for guidance on the music she liked and would want included on her CD. She rattled off a list of what to me sounded like the various protein building blocks of DNA and other assorted, confusing musical groups that weren’t even on the top-10 lists we’d discounted. So Jeff took the evening and sorted through the list, downloading snippets to preview to get a sense of what we had to work with.
The conversation between us the next day entailed how we’ve migrated out of the cool, hip uncles into the realm of those parent-types who say parenty-things, the same parenty-things we told ourselves we’d never say.
“That’s what they call music these days? I don’t know what kids are listening to these days but it’s dirty. There wasn’t one song on that list that wasn’t explicitly graphic or degradating or racist. I fear for our future.”
We’ve seriously become those people, so now the niece gets a nice CD of appropriate dance tunes culled from our respective histories of gay-circuit party fare where everyone danced in unhinged ecstasy, avoiding the holes and fallouts of over-excited inhibitions.
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(I make mix CDs for Amanda's 7-year-old niece all the time. You don't know scary until you realize that you share musical tastes with a second-grader.)