The Kids Are Alright

Credit: Polydor Records

The above-mentioned hit song by The Who from 1965 had a deeper social meaning than the title implies. The pop tune morphed into a catch phrase, a pithy way to describe young people by older generations in the late 1960s. I chose it as the title for this post because it jibes with my opinions on the early musical tendencies of my Rising Daughters™-- and their budding interest in music.

One sign that Lady E. and the M. are developing their own distinct musical tastes is the fighting about whose smartphone gets connected to our car's Bluetooth and thus dictates what everyone hears when driving. When the sniping about whose music is best degenerates into insults I call time out and put on my 90s grunge. But we still try to be democratic about it. I think it's healthy that our daughters detest my music. Generational rebellion and clashes about music seem to be natural. And it is the foundation of the rock and roll spirit, am I right?

In February, Elena went with a friend to her first concert featuring singer/songwriter Conan Gray. An American with Japanese roots (his mom is Japanese), he got his start in TikTok and YouTube. That makes him completely invisible to this GenXer and a magnet for contemporary GenZ teens. Elena had a great time at the concert. She made a signboard that concertgoers all wave in unison at different times during the concerts. Elena missed Billie Eilish when she toured through Tokyo, but Conan was too cute, and the ticket too affordable, to pass up. Elena has started her live concert journey.

Marina is still figuring out her musical self. She has an MP3 player gifted from her grandpa. And she’ll murder me for writing this, but I believe she takes her cues from her older sis and samples whatever Lady E is listening to. I then download the songs that Marina likes. Her peer influences come from TikTok spin doctors and the brands they push, rather than word-of-mouth. Naomi prefers to keep her music and life under wraps. I mention this in passing in case anyone wonders why there is rarely content about Naomi. I am under strict orders, people.

Now, my turn. Let me tell you about my three decades of The Pixies. If you’re a fan of the band, great. If you have no idea who they are, it matters not, because what’s relevant is the symbolism of their ongoing new music offerings and me still following them in my non-mellow, late middle age. The backstory is I’ve been listening to the Pixies since the early 1990s. I immediately loved their stark guitars and bizarre, spacey lyrics. I remain a fan. That’s why I decided to go by myself to a Pixies concert last November. I have all their albums -- even the less popular ones of the last few years – and enjoyed the live concerts I’d seen in Hiroshima and Nashville. With the Pixies, there’s minimal banter between songs, they hammer out their catalogue with little deviation from the original song, and there’s usually no encore. It’s all business with Black Francis and the Pixies. I like that—no ingratiating themselves with the audience, take it or leave it.

I went for the music, not the happening. As it turned out, upon reaching the venue in Tokyo I bumped into an old colleague and his friend and enjoyed a fluky night of laughs and great music. Third time I’d seen the Pixies live; third time lucky. The band didn’t disappoint compared to the halcyon days of my youth. We have aged, yes, but the power and the aggression are still there. Thus, three great decades of the Pixies, a band I’ve been listening to my entire adult life. Who knows, maybe there will be a fourth time? Fingers crossed.

"Rock 'n' roll is a participatory sport. It ain't passive. It ain't TV. Go out there and rock 'n' roll and dance and have fun." - Steven Van Zandt.

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