There’s a commercial that really aggravates me. It’s the one where the snarly hipster daughter is espousing the benefits of oats whilst her snarly white bread mother makes fun of her for ‘discovering The Kinks’. What a b**ch.
Tell me, posh lady – would you prefer your daughter ‘discover’ One Direction or Nikki Minaji or (may God have mercy on our souls and ears) Beau Ryan? Be grateful that your daughter is appreciating the classics and sleep soundly in the knowledge that you won’t be that parent who’s forked out $200 to sit frowning with their fingers firmly in the ears at the next Miley Cyrus concert.
Plus oats are good for you. It just makes no sense.
T has just started becoming interested in music, or ” rock n roll” as he calls it. “Mumma, play me some rock n roll” he calls from the backseat, a phrase which may be better suited to a recording studio in New Orleans or Nashville, as opposed to the back seat of my car, from someone wearing a Lightning McQueen tshirt snd clutching a McDonalds soft serve.
Nonetheless, with husband away, I’m taking advantage of my influence, and broadening T’s horizons with the classics.
T’s current favourite is “The Ladybugs” or as less cool people refer to them: “The Beatles”. His favourite song is “Yellow Submarine”, but he hasn’t even heard “Sgt Peppers” or “The White Album”, so don’t hold that against him just yet.
I ‘discovered’ The Beatles at age 14, when the documentary “The Beatles Anthology” aired on TV across three nights (wouldn’t that oats mum have had a field day with me “She’s discovered The Beatles – she thinks she Brian Epstein!” *rolls eyes*).
Mum had a scratchy cassette of the “Imagine” soundtrack that I immediately pilfered, and I studied her vinyl copy of “Ram” looking for clues that Paul McCartney was my soulmate. I rented the worn copy of “Help!” that skipped a whole scene in the middle from the local video store for eight consecutive weeks before the owner took pity on me and just gave it to me.
Of course it’s completely okay if T doesn’t love The Beatles. I can’t wait for him to develop his own style and likes and preferences. But until then, it can’t hurt to nudge him toward the classics…. at least until he discovers the Kinks.