Tonight I went out to Pagliacci for a few slices of pizza for dinner. As I was eating, I realized that the music was at once familiar and alien – it was Prince's original version of “Kiss”. Which is not the version embedded in my skull; that honor goes to the Art of Noise's cover.
That song ended, and more stuff from the eighties came on.
I suddenly realized, deep in my bones, that this music was as old and crusty to the college kids who make up most of the staff and clientele of the place as sixties stuff was to me when I was in college. They were playing uncomplicated, uncontroversial oldies.
I began to feel old.
But then I thought about the fact that my music collection has stuff in it recorded in the past few years, and felt better. Especially after thinking that, you know, I have stuff from as far back as the 1920s; I casually listen to a sampling of almost a hundred years of popular music. And my taste shows no signs of ossifying – I can't say I like everything that comes along, but there's something that makes my ears happy in a new way on a regular basis.
Hopefully, when I get close to being a hundred, I'll be listening to a casual sampling of almost two hundred years of popular music. That'll be pretty damn cool! If I'm lucky I'll still be in good enough shape to shake my booty to it, too.