Saturday, 19 December 2009

Pop, pop, pop music, talk about, pop music


In the past I have never really been much of a music critic. I like all kinds of stuff, generally a minuscule amount considered cool, and a monstrous amount considered pap, about as hip as a white-socks-and-brown-sandal combo.

Though I do like to have music on, in the car, and at home.

The car’s radio is my domain, there is a lot I concede to my son, but that is not one of them. It comes from a memory of forcing my mother to listen to ‘Grandma we love you’ and other crap, though she did get us back with her Russ Abbott album, and Stiff Dick collection.

I did not want to ghost down the same path, so generally I choose the music, with the odd timely ad hoc concession, but to stuff that I do not mind listening to, rather than your common-or-garden nursery rhyme nonsense.

What music did you grow up with?

At home the default television channel has always been, for me, one of the music channels. A trait that my son got so used to as a toddler, that I recorded a collection of music videos that would get, and hold, his attention.

It was most useful, as I would play them after bath time, so he would sit in front of me to have his glorious locks detangled and re-arranged by comb.

His taste seemed to be quite funky, perhaps with a rocky edge. The Killers have always seemed to carry favour, music from the Scissor Sisters and Razorlight was on our DVD hard drive. *cough* Kelly Clarkson *cough* songs were also amongst the few videos we had to hand, or remote control.

More recently, while I still can enjoy all sorts of tripe, I am also getting a growing joy of ripping songs apart lyrically.

Too much of anything can make you sick, Even the good can be a curse.
Makes it hard to know which road to go down, Knowing too much can get you hurt.

Is it better? Is it worse? Are we sitting in reverse? It's just like we're going backwards
I know where I want this to go, Driving fast but let's go slow. What I don't wanna do is crash, no.

Mrs Cole, I am, like the rest of the world, enlightened.

But perhaps I am being too cynical.

Like ripping JLS apart for having a lyric; ‘If I died, would you come to my funeral?’ With a weird, sort-of, emotionally blackmailing an ex-girlfriend vibe.

However their latest offering ‘If you’re in love, put your hands up’ or similar, is far from lyrical greatness, yet it allowed me to learn something about my son.

Not only that his music tastes are growing, but that he has a beautiful, and literal understanding of that song, and its question/request.

Listening to it at my parents’ house last week, he suggested that grandma and granddad put their hands up ‘because they love each other’.

Then he asked me to put my hand up.

“And who am I in love with son?”

I posed, with a genuine 50/50 expectation of him either saying himself or Britney Spears, but instead I got;

“Because you are in love with mommy.”

On many levels this fills me with pride, for the accuracy, but perhaps, more so, for his ability to understand the concept of love, even though he is being raised in single parent family.

Him knowing that he is borne of a relationship that was so filled with love, and always will be, is also more than warming.

And I have JLS to thank for a wonderful moment between father and child, well, more so the numpty who actually wrote their catchy number.

So perhaps I should just go out and buy 'Now, That's What I Call Music 989782' right away.

Who knows what lessons it may bring?

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