Captive Audiences

So, I make mixed tapes. Okay, mixed CDs, but I got my start in the early 80s converting my father's vinyl collection over to tape. He had a hit or miss collection - Earth, Wind & Fire, Bill Withers, Ohio Players, Isley Brothers, a buncha Stax, Sam & Dave, Elvis, Johnny Cash, Frank Sinatra. Jerry Jeff Walker. Merle Haggard and Waylon Jennings. Willy Nelson. On the comedy front there was Bill Cosby and Jonathan Winters. And rock: Queen, A Day at the Races. A Night at the Opera. Paul McCartney and Wings. And Yes' Fragile. Jazz? Wes Montgomery. Thelonius Monk. Soundtracks for Guys & Dolls and Gigi and Brigadoon and Oklahoma and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. And My Fair Lady.

That was the good stuff. Yeah, I'm including the musicals in there.

He also had a bunch of crap. Al Jarreau and Barbra Streisand and Petula Clark. Earl Klugh. And a shitload more that I can't remember. I didn't commit to memory all the crappy stuff. Don't break my balls if you like some of that stuff. Just know in your heart of hearts that I think you have truly terrible taste and should be drawn and quartered for it. Okay?

Anyway, going through all that vinyl gave me, at a formative age, a weird sense of good music. I mean, there was country mixed with funk mixed with prog rock blended in with musicals.

Recently I was just reminded how funny and absorbent kid's brains are. Here I was thinking I was all special. Nope, just a kid with a brain like a sponge.

I make mixed tapes. CDs, rather. Did I mention that? I made one recently with this song on it. "Tribal Connection" by Gogol Bordello.



Great tune.

I played it in the car for my girls, Lily and Helen, 9 and 7 respectively. I like playing different, experimental music when they're a captive audience. I watch their expressions in the rearview mirror and try to catch their understanding, their emotions. We've only got one childhood together.

At first, Lily said, "Daddy, this is horrible! Turn it to Disney!"

"He sounds like the guy from the Jackie Chan movie!" said Helen. The movie in question was The Spy Next Door, which featured Russian spies extensively. God, I'll never get those 2 hours back.

They quieted and listened. Because it's an awesome song. When we arrived home, Helen announced, "Mommy! Daddy played us some horrible music from Russia!"

They spent a long time explaining to her how bad the music was.

Two days later, I'm taking them somewhere in the car and Lily says, "Um...daddy? Can we listen to the Russian guy sing again? His voice is funny."

"Sure." I pop it in. They start to laugh when the lead singer starts doing his thing.

Cut to last night. We're on our way to dinner. "Will you put on the Russian guy?"

"Sure, honey."

The song starts to play and when the chorus comes on "No can do this, no can do that, what the hell can you do my friend in this place that you call your town?!" the girls are singing along, happy as Russian birds.

Or Chechnyan. Or Romanian.

Whatever.

Victory.

Disney Channel = 0.
Daddy = 1.