mike sucks at writing

sub-titled: “goddamnit, i have got to figure out how to put these things behind a cut” UPDATE: FOUND IT!

i’ve always felt like a pop-cultural vampire. i feel like i only ever catch on to something when someone else tells me about it. Maybe everyone is like this, but that “ability” to discover something new has never really been something that i’ve been good at. As such, my taste in music has always been influenced by those around me. Fortunately, i’ve come into contact with some amazing people over the course of my life, and their influence has infused my life with music in ways that have saved my life more than once.

to say that i had terrible taste in music when i was younger would be a serious understatement. I’m sure that there is still evidence of this somewhere, but i’m just going to say two words to you and leave it at that: “The Jets.” Wait, here are a couple more words: “The Jets Christmas Album.”

Like i said, though, my taste was influenced by those around me. When i was in elementary school–this is kindergarten through 5th grade for anyone unfamiliar with the structure of American mid-west schools–i hung out with a group of kids who were way outside of my comfort zone. Almost all of them were hispanic, they were all ten times “cooler” than i ever was, and they kept me around as a glorified punching bag. They were all listening to R&B around this time, and this was where my cassette money went. The names that stick in my head the most are Boyz II Men, Shai, Color Me Badd, and the Backstreet Boys. A lot of this was late in my elementary school career, as i still remember 6th grade–in middle school now–decrying The Backstreet Boys as a group that i “liked to listen to,” but didn’t like “their image.” Or some such nonsense. (i remember saying almost the exact same thing about Marylin Manson several years later–and recognizing the irony.)

Several things started happening to me all at the same time in middle school. First and foremost, i was fucking tired of getting kicked around. At some point in 6th grade i stopped hanging out with those friends who had carried me on their fists through elementary school, and i remember spending some months as a general outcast. Unfortunately, not hanging out with those guys didn’t actually mean that they stopped picking on me, just that i didn’t have to pretend that i enjoyed the humor in it anymore. I spent some time floating, not really having much for friends, until sometime in 7th grade. This was the time when i met Q (qsucksatdrawing.com and feedingthemachine.com). He was in one of my classes and sat behind me, as i recall. I’m not sure how we started talking, but Q had much much different taste in music than my old friends, and for that i will be forever grateful. We hung out constantly, but it wasn’t until i got a CD player for christmas and then my aunt took me CD shopping for my birthday 2 months later that i finally started down the good and righteous path. This excursion took us to the Cherry Creek Mall–the poshest place in the city–and the godawful chain CD store inside (i think it was a Sam Goody, but i’m not 100% sure.) i was allowed three CDs, and here is what i got: Megadeth: ‘Countdown to Extinction’, Metallica: ‘Master of Puppets’, and Arrested Development: ‘3 Years, 5 Months, and 2 Days in the Life Of….’ (what can i say, everyone has weaknesses.)

The last music related thing that happened to me at this time was the realization that my parents seemed to have this secret life. My mom was a huge Led Zeppelin fan, and my dad was into this weird, trippy music like Cream and the Doors. There was a cabinet in our basement–this horrible octagonal, dark wood thing that was also an end table–where they kept all of their old records. In here i found Aerosmith, Blue Oyster Cult, Iron Butterfly, The Doors, the Doobie Brothers, and many many other things that i just couldn’t believe. How could my parents be this ‘cool’? i stole several of their tapes and a few of the records even though i never really had a good turntable. What i started to understand was how my personal tastes in music were inextricably linked to the types of music that my parents listened to. My love for Tool was woven from their Moody Blues, Cream, and early Pink Floyd. Whenever i listen to Sun Volt, The Black Keys, or Ryan Adams i can’t help but think of The Doobie Brothers, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Wolfmother and The Black Crows should be obvious. I have some things in my musical life that are unique to me: Johnny Cash, Joy Division, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, Metallica, but even those have roots somewhere in that past that was tilled for me in a time i cannot remember.

What i find most interesting about all of this is that it is the birth of my individual identity. We nerds, geeks, and fanboys define ourselves by the things that we love, and this history illustrates for me, almost to the day, hour, and minute, the time when i started to formulate my own life. My tastes have wandered and waned over the years–my love for good hip-hop is still strong in my heart, heavy metal is still the shield i wear into the world, and indie rock and i are barely on speaking terms, but all of this is just more telling. It’s almost like mapping my own DNA and consciousness at the same time; shuffling nature and nurture into the same deck. Some parts my parents, some parts my friends, some parts my loves, and even some parts my children; Music is the vehicle for the outward expression of my identity.

On a side note, i still don’t know where my kids will end up when it comes to music. I wear my loves on my sleeve, and as such i listen to everything from Slipknot to Jonathan Coulton in their presence without hesitation (though i do skip through First of May when the kids are around.) I’m not the mystery to them that my parents were to me. The oldest has taken on much of my taste: he proudly wears his Master of Puppets t-shirt to 6th grade, is an avid Tool fan, is learning the guitar and plays everything from Johnny Cash’s version of “Personal Jesus” to some Led Zeppelin. He has started to diverge in his tastes, though, and thinks it’s funny to play Ozzy Osbourne and Weird Al around me because i just grit my teeth. The youngest, i think, will follow more in his mother’s footsteps, but his love for rhythm and drumming will, i hope, keep him interested in some of the ‘harder stuff’ (it’s really cute as hell to hear him ask for “Schism” in the car.) I’ve never found it beneficial to shut off my life from them, but there is a part of me that laments the alternate-universe moment where they find Dad’s stash of CDs from high school and realize that their old man was actually pretty ‘cool’.

post-script: this was a warmup–a couple actually–and as such has relevance to this blog (DON’T DISPUTE ME!) Also, i should be posting a Script Frenzy wrap-up soon. Thanks for reading.