Out of Tune

Not that I was ever in tune with my generation's musical taste but I never thought I was that out of touch.

That was my sense anyway from trying to invite friends to watch Third Eye Blind's and Babyface's shows in Cincinnati. I thought it was a rare treat to have these artists playing, within a week of each other, in a very intimate venue, and at just 25/35USD a pop. However, no one seemed to share my excitement. Each invitation was met by an inquisition on past hits, awards, and trivia. Some (the 'younger' set) have never heard of both artists, while the older group think 3EB too noisy, and Babyface, too mellow. And here I was thinking I had to fend people off to get myself tickets.

In any case, three of us went to watch 3EB last Sunday. (For those who keep tabs, I watched 3EB in the same venue last August -> http://ofwjournal.blogspot.com/2007/08/3eb.html.) Interestingly, the crowd consisted mostly of college and high school kids. From our seats in the balcony, we could see all the drinking, high-fiving, and body surfing going on. One of the kids jumped on the stage and danced around for 5 seconds before security caught him. It was all such good fun-- I felt 25 instead of 30.

And then the discomfort hit. I felt out of place in the midst of all the youthful exuberance. I suddenly became self-conscious of my leather jacket (very... OFW), my head bobbing (awkward, at best), and the fact that I knew the lyrics (who memorizes lyrics?). "Rock concert" just didn't jive with my look/age/personality.

I was starting to plan my escape route when I caught glimpse of this guy just in front of us. He looked to be past fifty- complete with bald spot and beer belly. He had his eyes closed as he head-banged, very er, Mick Jagger-esque but without the Rolling Stones cool. He drummed and banged on the table, and (horrors) swayed to the slow songs. It was all ghastly to behold but he didn't seem to mind. If it occurred to him that he was skewing the crowd's demographics, all by his lonesome, he didn't let on that it bothered him.

The old-timer helped me realize: It wasn't the music that I am not in tune with, but myself and what I gave myself license to do. I am also 30 years old and it still mattered to me what these teenagers perceived me. So what if I head-banged, drummed, and... swayed, ever so stiffly? I was too old to put other people's perception ahead of my own enjoyment.

And so I resolve: when I watch the Babyface concert this Sunday: I will clap, sing along, cheer/jeer, body surf (fat chance) and damn it, sway, if I want to. All I need to do is tune in -- to the concert and to myself-- and tune everyone else out.

* * *

Post-script: I turn 30 October of this year. Ergo, feeling old, past/present/future, milestones, and quite possibly, arthritis-- would be recurring themes. Don't say I didn't warn you. (oh, and by the way, that sets the tone: 'cranky/belligerent').