I'm drawn to a certain moment in time. Maybe it's not the music, but maybe it is. Or maybe it's a combination of the music and the times I lived it.
My youngest son will be getting married in two weeks. Seriously? I remember when he was eight. I remember sitting in the car at the mall and saying, "Wait, let's not go in yet. I want to hear this song." I remember cluing him in on who Bob Dylan was. I remember exclaiming, "That's Bruce Springsteen!"
Music matters because of who you share it with. Music matters because of the joy of discovery, with somebody who gets it.
I told my son once, "I only like sixties and eighties rock", and he nodded his head. He remembers eighties rock - it's seared into his cerebrum. He remembers how I tuned the FM radio to the rock station on his way home from school. He remembers that we had our television set on MTV and how we were glued to the screen when Peter Gabriel had things siphoning off his brain. He remembers how we laughed at Beavis and Butthead.
I'm feeling a bit wistful right now, because my son is all grown up and I sort of missed it. In two weeks he will be married, and before long he'll have a child he'll share musical memories with, and point out, "That's ....". And his child will tuck that knowledge away in a recess that he or she doesn't even know exists until it all comes tumbling out one day.
So I'm going to post a tribute to my son and to things we shared that maybe he forgot, or maybe he didn't. I really like eighties rock, but I wonder if I like it so much because he and I experienced it together.
I was going to include other videos, but that's for another day. This one pretty much encapsulates the eighties, don't you think?
Here's to you, Matt. I think your subconscious remembers this.
It's a gift that nobody else can give you, and I feel pretty good about that.
Someday you'll share with your son or your daughter. And the tie will bind. And they will laugh and say, "Oh, Grandpa and his old-time music".
But you and I both know.