But I thought I’d briefly say something about music. I’ve noticed for some time now that my tastes change depending on the context. If I’m listening to vinyl, I listen to mostly jazz, soul, and African music. If I’m listening to MP3s (I know they are not MP3 files anymore) maybe rock and guilty pleasures. In the car? The classical station 98.7 FM, if you’re in or around Chicago. (I’d rather drink bleach than listen to rock FM—“We got some Tom Petty and some Bob Segar comin’ up at the top of the hour!” Excruciating.) While I’m at the dentist, I recently learned, Adele does quite nicely.
That said, I do not listen to a ton of music these days. When I was younger, rock-n-roll was closer to a religion than anything else. Now, rock seems tired and silly. When I see guys (it’s usually guys) roughly my age or older with guitars, I get tired. I know fellas who do this, and I’m not criticizing them for doing so. It just seems that as an art form, rock-n-roll is kaput. It’s become a middle-age activity. Teenagers and twenty-somethings have little-to-no interest. So who does that leave? Yes, some people still love it. But its vibrance, which it enjoyed for many years, is gone. It’s now become sort of comical. In a sad way.
This came into focus for me when Peter Jackson’s Get Back documentary came out. Many were asking if I watched it. I still have not. There’s nothing there for me. Twenty-five years ago, I would have pounced on that project and hung on every word. But now I just see four guys making a record, singing gibberish lyrics in various accents, and not getting along. (I haven’t seen the documentary, but I know the story.) I cannot bring myself to care. John Lennon was a not-great father and a tiresome human being, and I do not need to watch the Beatles make their most inferior album. Pass.
I know that is only one example, but when I watched the trailer, I thought, “I’m done with that.” And I’m done with the whole genre. I haven’t even seen the Bowie documentary Moonage Daydream! I seem to have gotten tired of the genre about the same time it ran out of gas.
And I do separate art and artist. I know to trust the art not the artist. Art is wonderful; artists give me a headache. So, yes, John Lennon was a bad father and tiresome. He was also one of the greatest songwriters ever. Fine. Plato says artists have an innate ability to do what they do. But, that does not mean they are educated or smart—or good people. Sometimes lousy human beings make great art. I read Heidegger for Christ’s sake (though not often), and he was a Nazi. So, I guess we look past Lennon and J. K. Rowling and concentrate on their work.
One type of music that continues to deliver enjoyment is jazz. And when I say jazz, I mean something very specific. The umbrella of “jazz” is quite large and includes some truly awful music. My type of jazz is called “hard bop.” It was a successor to bebop. Hank Mobley is my guy. Love me some Hank. But I also love Art Blakey, Cannonball Adderley, Sonny Clark, Jutta Hipp & Zoot Sims, Lee Morgan, Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, and some John Coltrane.
If you’re new and find yourself jazz-curious, maybe start with Miles Davis’s “Kind of Blue” album. It’s the first port of call. You’ll like it. And if you don’t, maybe rock FM is more your speed.
That all said, I think young people cheat themselves by not exploring the genre. There’s a lot there. A few suggestions: David Bowie’s Hunky Dory album, Pink Floyd’s Piper at the Gates of Dawn, and Jeff Buckley’s Grace album. These are among the gems one can find if one rummages a bit. Doing so can be quite rewarding and reveal treasures.
