More is More


So I find myself exceptionally concerned about the music my oldest daughter is listening to.  Thanks to the marvel of music sharing across the family through our iTunes account (, I get a preview of what my kids listen to on their devices. Sometimes I’m concerned.  Rarely pleasantly surprised. But often mystified.

One Direction (!  What the hell is this crap!

Yet I pause.  I put my mid-forties musical judgement on hold for a moment, and reflect on where my musical tastes have ended up, and why.

I recall as a kid, driving with Dad (too young to be in the front passenger seat of the 1978 Cadillac Eldorado, certainly too young to be sans seat belt in said seat), listening to Credence Clearwater Revival Looking Out My Backdoor ( ) on the roadtrip on our many Indian Guides father-son overnight adventures.  I didn’t care for the song then. …

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