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Editorial
Sharing the Music
At the risk of sounding like an 'old timer' – when I was growing up we had one radio. ONE. It sat prominently on the kitchen counter and was on all day. It was the medium of choice. We had one radio station. ONE. It was local and it knew the value of playing a variety of music because they were well aware that they were entertaining a variety of generations of listeners all at the same time.
We had ONE family stereo and ONE record collection. Multi-generational listening gave me not only an appreciation for Tony Bennett, Dean Martin, Hank Williams Sr., and Lefty Frizzell but for Johnny Rivers, Elvis, Rolling Stones, Three Dog Night and Creedence Clearwater Revival. The love of music spilled easily over into daily family life. I have vivid memories of the old folk songs that were played by ear on the old piano that sat in the corner of my grandmother's living room. I recall sitting at the kitchen table while the adults gathered together for an impromptu party, with instruments in hand. Their repertoire of songs seemed endless and I absorbed every note.
Gone are the days when two or three generations huddled around a radio that was more like a piece of furniture, rather than a microchip. These days everyone's got an innocuous earpiece that disappears into the ear canal upon insertion as listening to music becomes an internal, solitary experience rather than a family activity.
These are the days of i-Pod's and mp3 players. Everywhere you look there are people with a set of headphones over or in their ears. One could easily be convinced that this is a good thing, and perhaps in some way it is – but there's also a price we've paid for the convenience of easy access to an extensive realm of music that's as close as a single click away. ….no one shares anymore.
Alongside of the wealth of exposure that the digital generation has brought us, we've both gained and lost. We've paid a cost. Multi-generational family listening is fast becoming extinct and along with it we're also slowly losing the fine art of communication, of making eye contact and small talk. Music innately pulls people together with its inherent, universal language and yet we rarely seem to take the time to share the experience anymore.
I've spent the last six years preaching to an online choir about taking country back, but it's just in this past year that it's become clear to me that doing so is only the first step in the journey to ensuring that the roots based music we love continues to prosper and grow. Once we've taken it back we need to remember that the next step is passing it on.
Now - granted, my life isn't perfect and neither is my fourteen year old son. He forgets to make his bed more often than not, needs to be reminded frequently about manners at the table, constantly fails at having his laundry make the direct path from his floor to the washing machine and has an innate tendency to hog the remote control for the TV if you don't hide it between the cushions of the sofa.
Traveling over 12,000 miles this year with him as my co-pilot, we had the opportunity to share many a song. He introduced me to his fast growing blues collection that includes a breadth of treasures from such stalwarts as BB King and Ray Charles to the sheer magnificence of Stevie Ray and the genius of Kim Wilson. I, in turn, introduced him to the collective wonders of The Cornell Hurd Band and the driving energy of Two Tons of Steel. We rediscovered The Beach Boys together and eagerly waded our way through a stack of Grand Ole Opry recordings we picked up at a Cracker Barrel somewhere along the way. We discussed politics after listening to the Dixie Chicks' I'm Not Ready To Make Nice which led to a deeper discussion of ethics, values and the benefits and consequences of standing up for what you believe in. We sang along to Fred Eaglesmith and marvelled at how, although he's Canadian like us eh, he fit in perfectly as we drove through the flatlands of New Mexico and Wyoming.
Because I'm blessed to work in the music business and found ourselves basically on our own in a strange place called Austin, Texas, he traveled with me everywhere I went. We attended the memorial benefit for Texas music icon Don Walser where we were mesmerized by the impact of one man and his life on the talent of the likes of Bill Kirchen, Slaid Cleaves and Johnny Gimble. We were awestruck as we watched a surprise appearance and performance by blues master, Pinetop Perkins. We shared the experience of Dale Watson on a Sunday afternoon at Ginny's Little Longhorn together. We spent a weekend exploring the historic musical relevance of Luckenbach and Gruene Hall. He knows who Dr G and the Mudcats are, still rambles on about the stellar guitar playing of Big John Mills and knuckles down in school and pulls great grades so he can be Heather Myles' future road manager.
With the turmoil that often finds itself exhibited in family life these days, the cause, in part, seems to point directly to the lack of communication and interaction between a parent and their child. We all live busy lives, and I'm well aware that perpetual change is a given. There's no way that we can turn back the clocks to 1965, nor should we, but perhaps we can find the time and make the effort to make music a way to once again bridge the generations.
This afternoon we watched the James Brown's memorial service together, sitting there slack jawed by the music, but the poignant moments also brought the opportunity for residual communication about death, life and family. It sparked (gasp!) communication and discussion between a parent and a child.
I don't pretend to insinuate that finding and making time to share music is the answer to all that ails us, but it's a real good place to start. All it takes is a little concentrated time and effort, the minimum of two sets of ears, an open mind and the willingness to let the rest just happen. Trust me, the benefits are endless and cost is much less than an i-Pod.
Looking back to December 2006's editorial: Warning! Politically Incorrect: Politics and Music |
