Most of the students at the community college where I teach are young adults. But one man in this class is, well, more seasoned. He made a disparaging remark about today’s music and asserted that music from the sixties was more authentic.
Another student seemed rankled and raised her hand. She was tired of such comparisons and defended the quality of some of today’s music.
We talked about the reliance on auto-tune by some bands and the many tools that allow even a non-musician to create “music.” We talked about how some music today seems produced by a machine.
The young woman was undeterred and argued that plenty of music today didn’t match the perceptions of listeners from older generations.
I asked her to give me the name of one band that I probably would NOT like. I told her I would listen with an open mind. The rest of the class quickly joined in, offering other band names. They were giving me homework. And they were enjoying it.
So I did it. I did my homework. I listened. I listened to Ween and AJR and NF and Wallows. I’m listening to Wallows right now as I type this. All damn, good stuff. Great stuff. I liked some bands more than others, but all of them had an urgency and energy that pulled me in. And the subject matter of the songs ranged from romance to drug abuse to friendship, many of the lyrics sophisticated and crafted. When the class meets next, I will ask for more names!
When I first heard the remark about sixties music being more authentic, I found myself nodding. The sentiment rang true for me. But mainly for selfish reasons. We all like to believe that the music from our own generation is the best.
To be more specific, when I find myself discrediting today’s music, there’s a particular sound I’m referring to: anything with a pulsating, jet engine bass; or songs that seem designed simply for dancing (nothing wrong with this when it’s time to dance, but I’m not listening to dance music in the car or on headphones); or songs that seem intended for the sole purpose of selling albums (or downloads?). But as I learned today, there’s a much broader world out there, filled with riches and textures I hadn’t imagined.
I’ve always believed that teaching keeps you young. As I bob to the beat from my headphones right now, I’m grinning at this truth. And grateful.