A Taste for Music

My family exposed me to so much music that other kids my age weren’t listening to. By the end of 5th grade I had every Beatles album, some of them copied onto cassette from my sisters, and knew every song that came on the oldies radio station we listened to in the morning. I listened only to Paul Simon’s Rhythm of the Saints for the entire summer after 6th grade. My favorite album in junior high was They Might Be Giants’ Flood. On family road trips we’d listen to Ray Charles, and I remember staring at Phish’s Rift album cover while listening to it over and over not understanding what I was hearing. Dad played old country like Hank Williams and Johnny Cash in the truck on the ranch. I knew the Breeders’ Last Splash by heart. Erasure played in my sister’s room as background music.

I have the distinct memory of playing a song from Flood for a friend.

“Okay,” I said, prepping my friend for the song. “These guys are crazy. This song–they only say ‘minimum wage.’ And then the song goes on, but that’s all they say.”

My friend lost interest as soon as the synths hit.

I didn’t know it wasn’t cool to listen to all this stuff. I’m glad I did.