I just figured out what the problem is with my generation. We are obsessed with television the way that the previous generation was obsessed with music. We have HD televisions, inDemand, DVR, Netflix and all this bullshit that I can’t even, nor do I want to, keep up with. This craze is how our parents were about music. Well, the cool ones anyway. They had PROPER speakers, nice record players, and followed bands obsessively the way that my peers follow Game of Thrones or the lives of the fucking Kardashian’s or the Hogan’s or whatever rich family is the flavor of the week. It’s gross. The former generation waited hours in lines to go to a concert and drove across state lines. Now people do not go to live music events because they’re lazy and would rather spend the night watching The Walking Dead and then hashtaging about it on twitter.
One of my favorite past times is listening to music with my Dad. I have OFTEN blew off my friends to hang out with my Dad at his house, drink rum and listen to The Beatles and Tears for Fears on his sweet stereo system. You are simply not listening to music properly if you’re listening to it off of your fucking laptop or iPod or whatever mini device you have that will be out of date in four months. When I was growing up, my Dad had floor speakers that stood a good two and a half feet tall, and I believe they were the same speakers he had had since ’75. And my God, do they sound beautiful.
I was recently at my Dad’s house by myself and decided to put on one of my many CD’s. While I am probably the youngest person I know who has a real CD collection, I only had a few handy because the hundreds of others were at my place. I was stoked to discover that I did have a Sunny Day Real Estate album with me, so I put that in, and literally started laughing out loud all by myself when I heard the first note. It sounded so goddamn different from what I am used to that it was comical. Jesus Christ I have been missing out. I laid in the middle of the room, and let the vibrations of the bass coming from the floor penetrate my heartbeat, and I let the melody fill the room and devour all sense of time and space. I think my life changed. At least a little bit. I’ve listened to music on these speakers plenty of times, but maybe because I was completely alone and feeling particularly susceptible, this time it was just different.
I left the room for a moment to grab my water which was in the living room where I had left the television on. With the music in the background, it was now being poisoned by the sounds and images of some drama that was on cable. In that moment, I was revolted by the TV. I don’t own a TV, but I don’t have disdain for it either, I just prefer to not have one. It makes me read more. Anyway, in this moment, with the beautiful sounds behind me, and in front of me, bright colors and fiction discharging all over my face, I had a revelation. My generation has it all wrong. We don’t listen to music properly, and we’re not as die-hard for it as the children of the ’60s and ’70s and it is drowning us.
To further my self-righteous music rant, I truly believe that world peace could be obtained with a happy song. If everyone in ISIS would just shut the fuck up and listen to “Tiny Dancer” things would get better. During diplomatic discussions of drone warfare and economic stability, I think there should be a mandatory twenty-minute musical intermission every two hours. You’re welcome, UN.
I know that I sound like a hipster right now, (which is something that I get made fun of daily by my tour manager who thinks that pumpkin patches are the demise of the society in the same way that big oil companies are), but I’m fine with that. What did the hipster’s ever do except for bring us craft beer, great coffee, a mini revival of vinyl records, the expansion of Vice magazine and made it acceptable for me to wear fake glasses?