I was driving in my car the other day listening to “Life in the Fast Lane” by the Eagles when it struck me that I was driving in my car listening to “Life in the Fast Lane” by the Eagles.
And that blew my mind.
Back in the early `90s, once I’d grown out of my New Kids phase, I settled into a very suburban existence listening to classic rawk and whatever mainstream grunge was making it on the radio at the time. I bought no music myself, swallowed whatever MTV spoon-fed me, and gave very little thought to whether or not what I was listening to on the car radio was “cool” or “uncool” or even good or bad.
Then I went to college. In a matter of weeks, it seemed, I’d cut off all my hair, dyed it red, bought Converse sneakers, thrown away all my cheesy mall clothes and replaced them with ironic T-shirts and thrift store skirts, and above all, I became a music snob.
From the age of 18 to roughly 26 or so, I fancied myself a bit of a hipster indie rocker. I was living in Chicago for much of that time, going to live shows several nights a week, buying CDs by bands with names like Sebadoh and Eric’s Trip and Built to Spill. I openly disdained anything mainstream and literally Could Not Survive without my CDs.
Today, living in the `burbs of Houston, I do not even know where my CD collection is. Seriously. Mr. Pop Rocks and I bought this house a year and a half ago, and I don’t know where the Hell my CD collection went. I guess it must still be in the garage in some of those unpacked boxes, but I don’t even care because I don’t even listen to music anymore unless Mr. Pop Rocks is playing something in the family room or the car.
My car radio got stolen last year, and I drove around for eight months with no music, and it didn’t really bother me. Now that I have a car radio again, I just listen to 106.9 or 107.3.
Sometimes, I even listen to 94.5 The Buzz. I swear it.
Honestly, ten years ago I would have rather eaten dirt than admitted to listening to The Buzz, and here I am, writing it for anyone to read.
I listen to The Buzz.
In many ways, I am 16-years-old again. I no longer buy any music, the only popular music I know about is what I see on MTV (I kind of did like that “Umbrella” song by Rihanna), and I passively swallow whatever time-tested, heard-it-a-million-times songs the radio stations are playing.
I’m kinda bummed about it, but you know what? Life is a whole lot easier this way. So whatever. – Jennifer Mathieu