There’s a part of me (the 16-year-old inside) that should feel a twinge of embarrassment over my questionable taste in music, but honestly, I don’t. Once upon a time, music was everything to me. I was that girl with black velvet chokers, dark nail polish, and hair styled in two tiny buns that resembled cat ears. The version of me from back then would be appalled to learn that, two decades later, I’d be a mom driving my kid to swim lessons, jamming out to the Top 40 without a single shred of irony.
I could recite every lyric from The Smiths, and my Trapper Keeper was plastered with their quotes. Now, I find myself belting out tunes from Rihanna and Maroon 5, completely unashamed. I can just imagine Morrissey shaking his head in disappointment if he knew of this betrayal.
Music as My Identity
Music used to be my identity. In high school, our lunch table choices were dictated by our musical tastes. There was no chance I’d sit at the Metallica, Debbie Gibson, or (heaven forbid) the country music table. I was too “cool” for that, claiming my spot at the Jane’s Addiction table, where we looked down on kids who enjoyed Paula Abdul or Bobby Brown. How could they not understand the brilliance of Robert Smith compared to those pop icons?
In my twenties, I was equally snobbish. I wouldn’t even consider dating a guy with poor taste in music—Hootie and the Blowfish was a definite deal breaker. Seriously, how could someone groove to Jon Secada and expect me to see them as a potential partner? My future spouse had to appreciate the Beastie Boys, but I was specific: “Paul’s Boutique” era, not “Fight For Your Right to Party.”
Shifting Perspectives
Looking back, I can’t believe I placed such importance on these things. I didn’t even know what the Top 40 stations were because college radio was my jam—the obscure stations at the bottom of the dial, almost AM. Now, I’m fully tuned into the Top 40 pop station that my teenage self would have loathed, and I genuinely wonder if college stations even exist anymore. Does anyone listen to the radio these days?
I’m so out of touch that, 25 years later, I just started to enjoy Nirvana. Back in the day, I dismissed them for being too mainstream; Sonic Youth was more my vibe.
Embracing Change
Eventually, I realized that music no longer defined me. I attempted to stay relevant for a while, hoping to embody the hipster mom, but let’s be real—I was already wearing capri pants and Keds. The next logical step was admitting my love for Shakira—and yes, even J. Lo. Sometimes, I still long for the past. I tried watching Coachella on TV this year, but I didn’t recognize a single artist, and then my 4-year-old insisted on Disney Junior, so I had to give in. The last “cool” album I bought was Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs, and I can’t recall the last time I played it. The Decemberists are also collecting digital dust in my iTunes library.
I think this is just a rite of passage into the world of motherhood. Moms are known for their questionable music choices. I remember my own mother jamming to Basia on her treadmill while I rolled my eyes in disgust. I couldn’t fathom how she could dislike the Violent Femmes, but now the tables have turned, and I’m the one in the “lame” category.
Finding Musical Freedom
But honestly, at 41, my sense of “cool” is vastly different from what it was at 21, and I relish this newfound musical freedom. Age has granted me confidence in my identity. I no longer need a curated playlist to define my life. Music used to be the shorthand I used to categorize myself and others, but I’ve realized that a person’s music preferences reveal little about who they truly are. I don’t have time for music snobs anymore—my life is filled with more pressing matters. I can now enjoy a variety of music. Believe it or not, I’ve even discovered a few country songs that I genuinely like. Take that, teenage me!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to enjoy some Taylor Swift. After that, I might even relax with some classic ’70s yacht rock. Christopher Cross, here I come!
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In summary, I’ve evolved from a music snob into someone who embraces a wider range of musical tastes. My younger self would be shocked, but I’ve found joy in the freedom to enjoy whatever I like, regardless of genre or popularity.