A few weeks ago during the Christmas break, we took a little day trip to a town about an hour away from Valencia. I was sitting in the backseat of the car, collecting my thoughts and enjoying the ride. My brother-in-law put a mix on the stereo, a mix of tunes that he had put together for a party a few years before. I knew all of the songs, which was really no surprise considering that my brother-in-law and I come from the same era. As I listened to the intro to one song, I kind of smiled at the memories; I hadn't heard the song in quite a while, and prepared to sing along.
"The horses are on the track," came a voice to my right, just as I was opening my mouth to say the exact same thing.
I turned in surprise to my nephew sitting next to me. "You know this song?" I asked.
"Sure, Uncle B," he responded. "I think it is a great song except for when the guy sings.
"Well, we can't all have a voice as good as yours," I commented jokingly, then went on to sing the rest of the song with my nephew, kind of a nice bonding moment. This is probably the first time that he has expressed interest in my music.
Of course, the fact that he knows the song is no surprise. Obviously he has ridden countless times in the car with his parents and listened to whatever they were listening to. When I was his age, I, too, listened to whatever my parents were listening to, and as a result, I am fairly well versed in the likes of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Tony Bennett.
That said, I certainly would not call myself a fan of those three singers, just like I would not expect my nephew to be a fan of Big Audio Dynamite. Still, I think it is pretty cool, all the same.
Over the past several years, I have noticed that I do not listen to music nearly as often as I did before, and while there are a variety of reasons for why that is, it kind of took this brief moment with my nephew to remind me of what I am missing. Sure, there are loads of excuses, such as being too busy or whatever, but those excuses are pretty lame.
True, I can remember (fondy, I might add) spending complete Saturday mornings sitting around the house doing nothing more than grooving to tunes, only to feel guilty half a day later that I had done sod all. Sure, this was not such a significant problem for me 20 years ago. Who hasn´t spent the better part of a day reading liner notes to a few records? But now, I do home office, and perhaps it not so easy to explain away the work day by having to get up every 3 minutes and dance around to whatever is shuffling on my stereo?
Sigh. Those were the days, eh?
I think I needed this catalyst from my nephew to sort of kick me back into gear. For years, I proudly told anyone and everyone that I would NEVER become that guy that stopped going to shows, NEVER stop listening to music, or worst of all, to STOP allowing music to remain such a huge influence in my life.
Unfortunately, that is what I have become, or should I say, had become.
The bottom line is, the decisions rest with me, so here I sit happily on a Saturday morning, rediscovering some wonderful tracks, singing along (dancing optional) and preparing to say, "hey, I have spent the last four hours doing something really great."
It's not a bad start to the weekend, finding the starlight, keeping the faith, and realizing once again how important music really is to me.
Thanks for the reminder, Bubba, I almost forgot.
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