I mean for this to be a new regular feature, but first a prolonged introduction with an eventual point (so more of the status quo, folks!)
They say children eventually turn into their parents.
I’ve long taken issue with this premise even as I’ve seen mounting evidence that tells me there is more substance to this cliché than I’d care to admit. Certain personality traits, patterns, and habits have taken on a new light when viewed comparatively to some people I’ve known and lived with for many years. Some of these results are comforting and others are freakishly frightening.
I’ve argued that if people are conscious of these concepts, they are better able to recognize some “inherited” aspects of their behaviors and try to cultivate or eliminate some of them as they see fit. One shouldn’t blindly let them continue to grow, but they should flourish because they are representative of someone you seek to emulate.
One part of my heritage that I’m not worried about shedding is the musical legacy I’ve received.
With family outposts being hundreds of miles apart, and never being one for reading for extended periods of time (where the mind was willing, but the stomach was weak), music was the primary mode of diversion while driving (in the backseat, at least). Before my sister and I had enough independence and allowance to spend on musical preferences of our own (and we also had to get past the spending-all-our-money-on-Legos-or-My-Little-Pony-products phase as well), anything we heard was picked by our parents.
Thus, in some of my musical choices I find myself extremely traditional compared to my peers. This not to say my musical progression is identical to my parents. I have been able to branch off on my own into areas they haven’t explore (I’m fairly sure my parents are largely unfamiliar with the genre I call “angry white boy music”). Nevertheless, we have a shared foundation that was formed during numerous road trips across the Midwest.
I am reminded of this concept that we start to become our parents as I’ve started rebuilding my CD collection.
There’s only so much to do after work. My roommate/landlord has claimed the living room with the jumbo TV (which gives me an actual bed in trade off rather than a couch, but I still sometimes wonder who got the better of the trade).
Since some nights I’m too worded out to read much, I’ve been turning to my sister’s CD player, which she was kind to lend me before I went West. Most of my CDs are in the “medium-term” storage where I left them in August. My computer is also beyond my reach, with my bountiful music collection (with out naming any specific number or admitting to any illegal acts, I have often repeated my opinion that the music industry heads were too strict went they started targeting people who had downloaded over 1,000 songs. You’re setting the bench mark at 1,000? C’mon! People are only getting started at that point. 10,000, I think, would be a much more appropriate ruler to apply to downloaders before pulling out the lawsuits… maybe 12,000).
So, having a fresh cash flow and a more inclined ear for music, I find myself in the unexpected position of I find myself spending more on CDs than I probably have over the previous four years. I am spending more on music than books and DVDs combined.
Also, and this ties back to the original point, I find myself looking for titles from my parent’s collections (or at least echoing artists they listened to).
So, in my first presentation of personal picks, I have five more traditional tunes that make me think of home.
I hope you enjoy
Music CD: “Feel Free” by Carolyn Arends
-- Carolyn Arends is one of my favorite musicians/songwriters. More than once I’ve turned to her music and found it to have the perfect mix of humor, warmth, and faith that I need. The first song I heard of hers, “Do What You Do” is a great anthem to just keep walking confidently down the path that is set before you. The song has brighten up many dark paths I’ve trod (physically and spiritually).
Music CD: “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat” the 1992 Canadian Cast
-- My parents raised me on Broadway show tunes. They were the ones who indirectly taught me that anything can be a song cue (my mother was the one most likely to break into song as my father was more likely to deadpan a lyric). My interest in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical acid trip (where I swear he had a bet to see how many musical styles he could include: French lament, Rockabilly rollick, Jamacan exhortation, etc) is attributed to their influence. My one minor complaint is that this is the Canadian cast and I previously was more accustomed to the Las Angeles cast. Yes, I am familiar with multiple renditions of the dreamcoat. No, I don’t wish to contemplate further what that means. Moving on…
Music CD: “Heart in Motion” by Amy Grant
-- If this doesn’t scream early 90s car trips with the parents, I don’t know what will (I’m positive my sister will back me up on this). It’s typical of Grant’s phase where she was doing music videos and flirting with the pop music charts. Her music doesn’t sound anything like this anymore, but it does evoke times when Mom was able to wrestle control of the dial from Dad (or more it was one of the times when she was the sole adult in the car).
Music CD: “Wildflower” by Sheryl Crow
--If you add it up, I think I’ve listened to this CD more than any other. This is partially due to the fact it was one of the sparse handful of CDs I took with me to Wyoming. I originally got hooked on the recording on the On Air music channel of the airlines I took when interviewing for this position and I made sure I purchased a copy of it before I left Kansas City (I found the last remaining copy of it at my favorite recovery salvage store after having spotted countless copies a few weeks before and being uninterested in it at the time). I like the scaled back melodies Crow sings, as compared to some of her more recent albums. As a journalist, I also love the unexpected irony that I find in the lyrics about complacent talking heads on the evening news in “Where Has All the Love Gone.”
Music CD: “This is Your Time” by Michael W. Smith
-- I think I was first drawn to this artist in my Mom’s tape collection (long before we starting compiling CDs and DVDs) because we had overlapping last names (not that I’ll ever name a kid Caleb Michael W. Smith). This CD I first commandeered from my mother about 30 minutes after she purchased it. It has remained in my collection ever since. When I am reunited with my other CDs, I plan to belatedly return whichever CD is in better condition to my Mom. Thanks for letting me borrow it for the last six years. The music is good too, but I’ve spent so long on anecdotes I’d better let you all go.
May you have merry melodies (and may Warner Bros. not sue).
said...
Here here! (that's British for "too right"!) I didn't appreciate being subjected to the Simon and Garfunkel collection, the best of Abba and the piano sonatas of Mozart when I was a passenger in my dad's car as a little girl, but these are now at the top of my playlist. My dad's influence on my music collection and mine on his (he's down with some of my "angry white girl music") are aspects of my identity which I'm happy to cultivate. However, all other "inherited" traits I'm striving to eliminate, including my mum's unhealthy interest in gossip magazines and my dad's propensity to trust the wrong people. Alas....
Caleb Michael said...
Yeah, I didn't get to mention the influence in my post, but my father's classical inclinations made an impact on me as well.
I don't believe, however, that I've ever managed to influence his listening habits. The thought of doing so, frankly, freaks me out in concept, let alone in application.