Missing: One cheap little MP3 player and lots of 70’s stuff on it. Last seen in the presence of a kid who looks a lot like me. DNA testing would be conclusive, I’m sure.
It’s true … that’s AC/DC’s “Back in Black” and “Hells Bells” ringing in Elise’s ears through her stolen electronics; but at least it’s not tunes from role models Demi Lovato, Miley Cyrus, or Lil Kim.
I got the MP3 free for earning points after drinking more Coke products than recommended by the Surgeon General. (My pancreas may never rust, if what they say about Coke’s bumper-cleansing properties rings true.)
Among the songs on it: A good smattering of Electric Light Orchestra, Los Lonely Boys, and Paul McCartney & Wings.
As a 70’s kid, I listened to such wholesome ditties as Starland Vocal Band’s “Afternoon Delight” and Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker” (Marie’s take: “He’s not talking about peaches, is he?”).
Geez, in the 80’s, there was George Michael’s song, “I Want Your Sex.”
And yet, I don’t want my kids listening to Sean King’s “Suicidal” or “Get Low” by Flo Rida (even though they play it at our wholesome school’s skate night), or pretty much anything by Ke$ha (although dad likes her a lot more than he should).
Our musical biography begins at age 7 or 8, and continues about 2 years after formal schooling. For me, that launched late in disco, survived Men at Work, Flock of Seagulls, and C&C Music Factory; and then wound down with the Spin Doctors, Creed, and Hootie and the Blowfish.
Years ago, my sister loaded my idle MP3 player with glimmers of our childhood (ELO) and culture (Los Lonely Boys). Now, I’m finding the lyrics to “Mr. Blue Sky” among the kids’ piles of homework and sketches.
They dig the mechanical action intro to “Silly Love Song” and they love “Heaven,” by Los Lonely Boys.
I like that my kids can appreciate my music, because when I was a kid, you knew who sang the wholesome stuff and who was dirty. Back in the day? Crystal clear … Or was it?
I remember my cousin Lawrence deciphering the album cover to REO Speedwagon’s “Hi Infidelity” to me. (Had nothing to do with Dolby Stereo.
Was that really 30 years ago?)
At bedtime, song safety once reigned with my girls. I could croon a little Elvis, maybe some Harry Connick, Jr. or Otis Redding to the girls. “Hey Jude” got us talking about its meaning.
Same with “Let it Be.” “Across the Universe” was a favorite for my girls, and they enjoyed “Swinging on a Star” so much that I wrote three new verses about a crab, a snail, and a skunk (thank you rhymezone.com!).
Grace, I love that you thought of our daddy when you heard “Just the Way You Are” by Bruno Mars, but you may not sing the “The Lazy Song.”
Elise, I love hearing you sing “Firework” by Katy Perry, but don’t let me catch you and Marie looking up lyrics to “Teenage Dream” again.
Why not listen to the reflective lyrics of Paul Simon’s album “Rhythm of the Saints”?
How about the Beatles’ “White Album”? The lyrics in George Michael’s “Listen Without Prejudice” address materialism, self-confidence, and society’s betrayal of God. George Michael also had a song called “Faith,” if I remember correctly.
Back when lyrics meant something. Where are those lyrics? Ah, here we go:
Well I guess it would be nice
If I could touch your body
I know not everybody
Has got a body like you…
Um, never mind.