The Day The Music Died

Of all the art forms, nothing says more about who we are than our choices in music. At least that’s the common perception. Generally, you’d never make assumptions about someone who liked action movies instead of comedies – or preferred interpretive dance over ballet. But, when it comes to music, let the categorizing and stereotyping begin.

If you enjoy dance music, you’re probably a fun-loving, party person, right? Anyone who likes punk music is an anarchist who wants to destroy the establishment. Classical music lovers are stuffed shirts who walk around with their noses in the air sipping cognac and smoking a pipe. And let’s not even start on the impressions people have about those who like hip hop or country music.

Although there’s often a close correlation between who you are and what type of music you like, it’s never a good idea to judge a book by its cover, as the old cliché goes. Several decades ago, I was staying for a month in England when I met two straight-laced young guys who were accountants from Sweden and looked every bit the part – buttoned down shirts, nerdy glasses, pocket protectors, and every other fashion accoutrement you could imagine.

The first night I ran into them, they asked me if I wanted to go to a heavy-duty punk concert at the massive London Palladium. Honestly, I thought they were joking, but when they began dying their hair blue, sticking fake piercings in various parts of their bodies and donning ripped up t-shirts, I realized they were serious.

Long story short, it was an amazing evening I’ll never forget (although I definitely feared for my life at several points), but the most interesting part was the backstory of these two young punkers. Sure enough, for 51 weeks of the year they played the role of typical, mild-mannered accountants in Stockholm. But, for one precious week, they cut loose, headed to London and became the punkers that stayed buried deep inside them during their day-to-day lives. So much for stereotypes.

However, I digress. Whether you believe that musical choices define a person may be up for debate. But what about people who pick some arbitrary date in their lives and, from that point onward, decide they’ve heard enough new tunes for a lifetime and choose to get off the musical merry-go-round? You know the people I’m talking about. They’re the ones who say, “They stopped making good music in 1979” (or whenever) or “They don’t make music like they used to” or “The last record I bought was Led Zeppelin II.”

I don’t know if there’s a certain age when this occurs or if it’s a random thing where you start looking around and realize that most of the music that’s being made just doesn’t cut it for you anymore. In any case, once it happens, it’s hard to convince those people there’s any new music that’s worth listening to. And, ironically, it often occurs with the people who appeared to love music the most, at least for the first part of their lives up until the time the world of music died for them.

Personally, I’m happy to say that’s never happened to me. I’ve been around for a long, long time and still can’t seem to stop searching out new music, looking for exciting new sounds that get me charged up and make me want to share it with my family and my tune-loving friends. I’m pretty receptive to just about all kinds of music. Sure, I have my favourites and there are some genres I don’t explore too often, but if somebody tells me, “You have to listen to this,” I’m always game.

I had a longtime friend who had a similar attitude. Although he didn’t like everything that crossed his plate, he was always willing to, at least, give it a few spins before he awarded it a definitive thumbs up or tossed it in the reject pile. My buddy passed away about a year ago – and there’s still a big hole in my heart where he used to live. We had plenty in common, but nothing greater than our love of music. Almost 12 months later, when I hear a new band I love, inevitably, I’ll think of my friend and wish he was still here today to share it with me. And the converse is true, too. I miss receiving new music from him just as much – and my life is a little poorer because of it.

Whether it’s a conscious or unconscious decision, I don’t think I’ll ever understand what makes some people decide to pick a particular date after which they shut themselves off from music and climb into a time capsule where the same songs play over and over in an endless loop. I just don’t get it.

When I was a kid, there were maybe a few thousand musical choices when you shopped at your local record store. Over the last few decades, mostly because of electronic file formats and the Internet, those choices have blossomed into millions or even billions of options from all over the globe. Honestly, if you can’t find something from that nearly infinite jukebox, you’re just not even trying. And, for me, that’s pretty sad. Music always has been – and, hopefully, always will be – a huge part of my life. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. Keep on rockin’.