TAKE OFF THE HEADPHONES AND DANCE TO SOMEONE ELSE’S BEAT
STORY BY Heather Kirk-Davidoff ILLUSTRATION BY Kelly Miller
I toured a model home recently that boasted built-in speakers in every room, all connected to a CD/MP3 player in the kitchen. It was supposed to be a selling point for the house. Dance your way through your personal playlist as you clean all five bathrooms! All I could think of was the family fights this system would generate. Who, after all, would pick the music?
Music connects between people divided by language and culture — a quick look at You-Tube videos of people dancing to Pharrell William’s “Happy” proves that point. But music frequently divides families. My parents fought with their parents over rock and roll and then, when they had kids of their own, the cycle started up again.
I remember listening to a little transistor radio under my covers when I was 9, long after I was supposed to be asleep. I felt very grown up because I knew the words to Gary Wright’s “Dream Weaver” by heart. That was the first time I knew something my parents didn’t know, the first time I knew for sure I was cooler than them.
To my parents’ credit, when I fell hard for the Go-Go’s and Flock of Seagulls (it was the 80s) they drove me and my squealing friends to our first big stadium concert to hear those groups perform. When my younger brother got into metal bands I think my music sounded pretty sweet by comparison. He spent most of his high school years in our basement, lifting weights and listening to Megadeth. We didn’t just hear his music — we felt it as it vibrated through the foundation of the house.
I came of age alongside the invention of the Sony Walkman and other personal music players. When I finally got one of my own in high school, it was a revelation to find I could listen to my own music wherever I went, even in rooms where other music was playing. At first my parents rolled their eyes but before long they had headphones of their own.
We had discovered the key to family harmony. Now, everyone is plugged into their own iPod, living their lives to their own soundtracks. On the bus, in the gym, on an airplane or on the bike path, just about everyone you see is walking or running to a different drummer.
That’s how it was in our house until, a few years ago, my sons discovered records. Or, as they call it, VINYL. I can still remember my excitement when CDs first came out. No more skipping when you danced too close to the turntable! No more worry about scratches and dust! But apparently my enthusiasm was premature. The sound quality of CDs, my sons have told me, is totally inferior to a vinyl record. I tried to point out that given the poor quality of our speakers it would be hard to notice any difference, but they are not to be dissuaded.
Our record player does not have headphones. My kids had been listening to music through headphones since they were in preschool, but suddenly they wanted to listen to music out loud.
My husband and I braced ourselves for a battle, but it never came. It turned out that my kids’ taste in music is varied and often weird, and I enjoy it. I eventually realized that their discriminating taste has to do, in part, with the fact that they buy entire records, not just download individual songs they hear on the radio. But the important thing to me is that I enjoy a lot of what they play. I can talk to them about it and express appreciation for their choices.
So I’ve made a decision. I’m pulling out my ear buds and popping my personal music bubble. I want to tap my feet to other people’s music — my kids’ included.
I was in traffic court of few weeks ago (don’t ask) and couldn’t help overhearing the woman ahead of me pleading with the judge to dismiss her charge for reckless driving. She was taking her kids to school, she explained, and they were all dancing in their seats to the radio. She might have veered from one side of the lane to the other while this was happening, but it was all in fun and no one was hurt in the process.
In my opinion, this mom deserved a medal, not a ticket. She didn’t tell her kids to turn it down. She danced along. *
