Can We Listen to Hot Mix Now?

Every day when I pick them up from school, either my son or his friend asks, “Can we listen to Hot Mix now?” If it’s coming from the child I did not birth, there’s a “please” in there somewhere. As in please, oh please, can we listen to the station that will likely play at least one of the hot-hot-hot mixes two or three times during the time it takes to get from school to home.

But my daughter, she’s still impressionable. She might have better taste. The other day as we drove up to the middle school, The Girl and I were listening to a super cool 80s mix-tape CD a friend made for my 40th birthday last year. When the boys got in the car, my son’s friend asked, “What IS this?”

“It’s my mom’s oldies music.”

“Oh.”

“It’s like from the 50s or something.”

And then we did a steering wheel sock hop to The Cult. That’s the oldies now, She Sells Sanctuary. And what’s cool? Justin Bieber.

What’s Wrong With This Advertising Model?

I have been in love with Pandora for a while. It is the ultimate running companion. Since I use the free version, after about 40 minutes an ad comes on. Then my music resumes and all is right with the world. I don’t mind the advertising. I wonder how they know someone listening to Ludacris is also in the market for laundry detergent, but it’s all good. Usually when I run I listen to upbeat pop or rap, but occasionally, when I am feeling extra one-with-nature I’ll turn on the Gregorian Chant channel. I turn the volume down low so I can hear the birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees along with the voices of the monks (or studio musicians-whatever). I’m peaceful like that.

This morning I got my chant on. After 40 minutes a song ended and my internal reverie was interrupted by this too-cheerful message:

“That one always gets me going!” Followed by some pitch for soap or cleaning products or a nonstick something or other.

Pandora, one word: customization.

The Trouble With Lyrics

So picture me and my cute daughter rockin’ the aisles of Wal-Mart Saturday and what is right there out in front next to the check out lines but a CD we both had to have. Kate Perry’s One of the Boys called our names with the promise of I Kissed a Girl stickered onto the front. Catchy little tune that is.

We played it over and over, my daughter prancing around the house belting out about the taste of cherry Chapstick. I knew it was coming and I was prepared. Then last night:

Mom, is this a boy singing or a girl?

And I was so ready:

It’s a girl pretending to be a boy.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Welcome to My Musical Nightmare

I have never been a huge music fan. I know, that’s not cool to say, but it’s true. I like music, I have my favorites, but it has never consumed me. I can count the concerts I’ve been to: Hall & Oats, Van Halen, INXS, Warrant, Indigo Girls, Sting, Everything But the Girl, Indigo Girls again. I told you I wasn’t cool. (And in my defense, a number of those were free tickets.) The best shows I’ve been to were at small venues like the Late Week Lazy Boy Supper Club at the Royal Theater in Archer City, Texas. Anyway, my point is that while I enjoy listening to music, I’m not that into it.

I blame my parents (who, I should mention are both musicians). Had either of them bothered to buy me the Sony Walkman at that crucial age of my development, this all could have ended very differently.

My husband was the first in our family to adopt the mp3 technology, albeit late and only for the purpose of passing the time on airplanes. He got by with a stick that stuck into his laptop, loaded with a handful of songs. I held out as long as I could before getting an mp3 player last year for Christmas. I didn’t get the real deal, but a knockoff brand that was just as good, right? Right. I loaded some songs off my random CD collection and called it good. (Actually, my husband did the loading because as I mentioned, I’m just not that into it. However, I do have a preference against the Bee Gees, which is not shared by my better half. But because I’m so indifferent, How Deep Is Your Love is still on my player.)

Fast forward six months and my daughter is turning eight. The one and only thing she wants, really-really-really-really wants for her birthday is an iPod Shuffle. And when you only buy your kids gifts on their birthdays and Christmas and that’s what the girl really-really-really-really wants, that’s what she gets. So here we are with this cute little lavender Shuffle and a handful of gift cards to the iTunes store. Suddenly I got nervous recalling that I had yet to figure out how to download the free songs they offer once a week on the handy little cards at Starbucks.

Downloading the iTunes software, or store, or whatever it is – took the better part of a morning, and I’ve already had to install updates once. The joy. But still, this is going to be great because we’ll have all these songs and we can all put them on our little musical thingys and rock out. (I should mention my son his own now – a knockoff of a knockoff that my husband picked up off a trade show table somewhere south of the border.) What I’m very excited about is the free workout music available on iTunes. Now I’m really getting into download mode!

I quickly learn, however, that those iTunes songs don’t play nice with the non-iPod players. Plan B. I load the DJ Whats-his-name running program onto my daughters Shuffle and swap out the ear buds. I’m ready to jog. Never mind that I have to go through every last song on that thing to find what I’m looking for because there’s no screen. No worries, I’ll just run to the Jo Bros and Kidz Bop. What’s really annoying is that my husband has set the volume so low to protect the girl’s ears that I can’t hear the beat of Hannah Montana’s latest release over my own breathing.

And cussing.

Here’s a great business opportunity for entrepreneurial tweens and teens: Virtual Music Assistant. Any takers?

1988 in Music – Which Style Were You?

Here’s a little mood music for a surprise I’ve been scheming up. Scroll through the lists and make sure to let us know where you fit!

Fall in Love With Brandi Carlile

Searching for Wholesome Showtunes

Photo Credit: Amazon.com

Clearly, Cabaret is not appropriate fare, but The Girl loves it. The tunes are so catchy and how we do love to sing and dance… It’s don’t tell Mama this and don’t tell Mama that. And while the English accent is adorable, I know I have to put the kibosh on the whole affair. (I’m just glad she’s still clueless as to just what Miss Sally Bowles isn’t telling Mama.) It’s sad to censor listening pleasure for a time. Eminem is totally out. This is motherhood. For now I am in search of more suitable showtunes soon. Like Oklahoma. Or La Cage aux Folles. I’m taking suggestions.