As I've said many times in the past, one of my biggest fears in life is the self-realization that I've become a... (gasp) fuddy-duddy.
I'm seeing it happen more and more often, like when my friends who used to stay out until dangerous hours doing dangerous things are now tucked into bed by 10 p.m. Like when I flip past the oldies channel and they're playing a song that came out AFTER I graduated college. Like when I see some hooligan on the street and immediately assume they're up to no good. When I use words like "hooligan."
I am no longer a spring chicken -- but I do a decent job at living in denial. I still occasionally do dangerous things at dangerous hours -- but the danger is mostly me going, "Gosh, it's late. I bet there's a lot of drunks on the road. I need to be extra cautious during these risky hours of travel." I still watch TV shows about 20-somethings and their 20-something problems. I share silly viral videos off TikTok and find myself astonished when my friends have no idea what I'm talking about.
But the biggest denial of my laps around the sun happens on the weekends, when I spend my evenings filling dancefloors with people half my age. I might have a mild-mannered day job during the week, but when the weekend comes, you can usually find me in some DJ booth, doing my very best to soundtrack a great night out for clubgoers young enough to be my children. And it doesn't phase me one bit. When I'm behind the DJ decks, I never feel like the old guy in the room. I'm just focused on the tunes. But as much as I don't want to admit it, sometimes the tunes are what makes me feel ancient.
Everyone says the music of their era was the best music ever -- and everyone is usually wrong. The music of your youth is simply what you identify with the most, and it will usually always be your go-to. Big band fans probably hated Elvis. Elvis fans probably hated the Beatles. Beatles fans probably hated disco. While it's great to have favorites, it's always a pet peeve to hear someone say, "today's music is TERRIBLE!" Just because you don't identify with something doesn't make it inherently bad.
At least, that's what I always believed. Then the 2020's showed up. Maybe I'm officially old. Maybe I'm officially becoming set in my ways. That said, there's been some straight up TERRIBLE music climbing the charts lately.
"Excuse me?" the cute, polite, well-mannered girl at the club asked last weekend. "Do you take requests?"
"Maybe," I replied with a smile. "Whatcha wanna hear?"
"Thanks," she said. "Can you play '[EXPLETIVE] On My [EXPLETIVE]?'"
I played it for her. But I also kinda wanted to wash her mouth out with soap, or at the very least offer a brief but informative lecture on self-respect and safe sex practices. But it's official - I know I'm becoming a fuddy-duddy when the lyrics to today's pop songs start embarassing me. But seriously, have you HEARD some of these tracks?
Back in the Fifties, they wouldn't show Elvis' hips on TV for fear of upsetting people. In the Seventies, punk rock was the shocking sound of molten anger. In my era, the limits of decency were shattered by the fiendishly filthy 2 Live Crew, whose juvenile raps caused such outrage Congress got involved.
Well, the 2 Live Crew may as well be Kidz Bop compared to some of the most popular songs in the clubs right now. I bet these tracks would even make Luke from 2 Live Crew blush. I wonder if he has teenagers now? I wonder if he lets them listen to these filthy new songs? I'd really like to picture some poor kid getting a lecture about morality from the guy who wrote "Me So Horny."
But last weekend really brought it all home for me. A retro cover band was playing a Gilda's Club event at the Rust Belt, and yours truly got the opportunity to show up and open the night DJing a set of all 80s music. I hate people who say the music of their era was the best music ever -- except when people from the 80s say it, because they're correct. 80s nusic was, is, and always shall be magical.
That night, I didn't have to worry about the Top 40 charts. I didn't have to worry about being a fuddy-duddy. I certainly didn't have to worry about [EXPLETIVE] on my [EXPLETIVE]. That night, I was only focused on a few key concepts: (1) That I was living on a prayer, (2) that girls just want to have fun, and (3) that I had to fight for my right to party. I'm not one to brag, but that night, I may have rocked down to electric avenue and then I took it higher. It was ridiculous fun, and I got to drop New Kids, Debbie Gibson, AND Tiffany in the span of a half hour, so my mission was accomplished.
I have no plans to stop mixing records unless clubs finally decide to stop hiring an old guy to do it -- and the way I see it, I'll eventually cycle back to being cool again, because what club wouldn't want to book the old senior citizen DJ who limps into the booth with a cane and then melts peoples faces off with sick beats? In the meantime, if you ever want to throw an 80s party, you know who to call.
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