I don’t wish for high-tech things often, but I’d love a Bluetooth hookup in my car so I can listen to songs from my phone. My Jetta came out just before the Bluetooth-in-car revolution, though, so I content myself and my kids with old mix CDs I have from college. The one in the car right now (a really strange mix that includes dialogue clips from the films Chasing Amy and Dogma) features their current fave, “Happy Happy Joy Joy,” and Oasis’ “Wonderwall.” Driving home today from a friend’s house, one kid asleep in the backseat and the other nearly there, I realized two things:
- Wonderwall, as a song that was released in the 1990’s, doesn’t really hold up for me anymore.
- But that’s okay. Because I’m not the person I was in the 1990s.
When “Wonderwall” was released, I was a naive, overweight teenager who was full of 90’s angst. Its lyrics spoke volumes to me: I had multiple crushes on many of the neighborhood boys, and had no way to properly express my feelings for them. So when I heard
I don’t believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now
And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I
Would like to say to you but I don’t know how
it made sense to me. Oasis was speaking my language. Every boy I had a huge crush on was worthy of all my love and all my attention at the moment. I was putting everything I had into the fantasy of being their girlfriend. No one else ever felt the way I did about them, etc. etc.
And I’m grown up, now. I see things much more differently as a mom in her mid-thirties than I did as a kid. And the song itself just kind of grates, all that nasally singing and the monotonous strumming. So it’s changed for me.
I think I might feel tempted to forget that I really liked that song, to laugh and say I was just a stupid kid when I listened to it. But things meant something to me, and because it did, it wasn’t stupid.
My daughter is 13 months now and totally over baby food in the jar. She wants real people food, big pieces of whatever we’re eating. But in order to get to the bigger stuff, she had to go through the pureed things.
Baby food in a jar is probably the best thing ever. Babies love it because food scientists engineer what goes into it to make it taste wonderful. When my son was trying solids, I’d make food for him, also pureed, that tasted like garbage compared to the same things I’d buy in a jar.
It’s kind of like that with music, too. I’ll listen to a Justin Beiber song, or any pop song on the radio today, and that is a song that is engineered to be catchy as hell. “Shake It Off” won’t be anywhere in 20 years, but that is a fun song to dance to. It might not be the best song ever in terms of longevity or depth, but it’ll taste good going down!
That was “Wonderall” for me. To get to where I am today, I had to go through Oasis.
I read part of this interview recently with Dave Grohl, lead singer of Foo Fighters, and something he said really struck me. He said,
“I don’t believe in guilty pleasures. I believe that you should be able to like what you like. If you like a f****ing Kesha song, listen to f***ing Kesha.”
I don’t wish to be a teenager again. It was a rough set of years for me, and I wouldn’t want them back to do over, not even knowing what I know now. But I don’t mind that I used to like what I like. I hope I don’t keep minding it.