So I was in my office the other day, plugging away at the typewriter when I heard this warbling coming from out in the hallway. The voice was hauntingly familiar, as was the melody, but I couldn’t place it.
Then Hyper Lad ambled in from the hallway and it all clicked into place.
The voice was that of my youngest dude and the melody belonged to the Beatles. The dude was singing “Help,” for absolutely no reason at all. It was just something that slipped out of his mouth because he was feeling a bit of all right.
How cool is that?
I mean, the Beatles broke up when I was still in diapers. What? I had. . . issues. Sue me. Still, it was a long time ago. And my youngest, definitely a child of this era, still is singing along to one of their songs. From 50 years ago!
That’s some good music, that is. To be able to be enjoyed by people of such diverse cultures and time frames. And, dudes, this still is very, very catchy.
I found myself joining in for the last couple of lines.
At least until Hyper Lad shot me a look of disgust and walked out of the room.
Okay, yes, sure he’s got a much better voice, but that was no reason to just talk out on mine. It’s not like he hadn’t suffered hearing damage from all the loud video games and suchlike. I’m surprised he can even hear my singing voice. Mostly it just makes dogs howl, but beside the point.
It’s something interesting I’ve noticed with two out of my three little dudes. The oldest, Sarcasmo, will listen to a few oldies, but mostly finds his musical enjoyment from the current decade, along with a love of electronica-derived instrumentals.
The middle dude, Zippy the College Boy, loves all kinds of music, from my oldies, taking a detour through country, around ska-punk, and into the current alternative music scene. About the only thing he doesn’t like is rap. Which is something Hyper Lad gladly adds to his playlist along with stuff like dubstep.
We’ve all four decided that straight pop music — whatever the era it was released — is garbage we wouldn’t waste our bleeding ears on. Snobs, but snobs together so that’s all right.
So here’s to you, Paul. Here’s to you, John. Here’s to you, George. And even you, Ringo. It’s an amazing accomplishment, but, seriously, thanks for the music.
Thanks for making something that, almost a half a century later, I can enjoy with my young dudes. At least until I open my stinkin’ mouth.