There’s a part of me (the teenager who still lingers within) that might feel embarrassed about my eclectic taste in music, but honestly, I don’t. There was a time when music genuinely shaped my identity—a time when I donned black chokers, dark nail polish, and styled my hair in two tiny buns that resembled cat ears. The girl I once was would be shocked to learn that two decades later, she’d become a parent, joyfully blasting Top 40 hits while shuttling her child to swim lessons.
In my youth, I could recite every line of every song by The Cure and even adorned my notebooks with their lyrics. But now? I belt out tunes by Dua Lipa and Ed Sheeran without a trace of irony. I can only imagine the look of disappointment on Robert Smith‘s face if he knew I’d strayed so far from my roots.
Music and Identity
Music once defined my social circles. Back in high school, we carefully selected our lunch tables based on our favorite bands. I would never dream of sitting at the Nickelback table, the Britney Spears table, or (heaven forbid) the country music table. I was too cool for that. My place was at the Jane’s Addiction table, where we sipped soda and scoffed at those who enjoyed Vanilla Ice or New Kids on the Block. How could they not realize how much more profound and authentic artists like Kurt Cobain were?
As I entered my twenties, my attitude didn’t shift much. I would refuse to date anyone with questionable music taste. If a guy admitted to enjoying Hootie and the Blowfish, that was an immediate deal breaker. Seriously, how could you expect me to take you seriously while jamming to Jon Secada? My future partner had to appreciate The Beastie Boys, but there was a crucial difference: it had to be the Paul’s Boutique era, not the party anthem phase.
A Shift in Perspective
Looking back, I can’t believe how much those opinions shaped my life. I was so out of touch with mainstream music that I didn’t even know what the Top 40 stations were; my loyalty belonged to underground college radio. Now, I find my car radio permanently tuned to the pop station that my teenage self would have deemed a nightmare. Do college radio stations even exist anymore, or were they a relic of the ’90s? Does anyone still listen to the radio at all?
I’m so out of the loop that, 25 years later, I’ve only just started to appreciate Nirvana. Back when Kurt Cobain was alive, I shunned them for being too mainstream. I was far too into Sonic Youth at the time.
Eventually, music stopped being a defining feature of my identity. I tried to cling to my past self, hoping to remain relevant. After all, I could still be that “cool mom,” right? But who was I kidding? I had already succumbed to capri pants and sneakers. My next step was admitting my fondness for Shakira—and maybe even J. Lo. Still, I occasionally miss that former self. I tried to tune in to this year’s Coachella festival, but after being bombarded with unfamiliar names, my four-year-old insisted on Disney Junior, and I had to concede. The last album I bought was Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs, and I can’t recall the last time I played it. Even The Decemberists are gathering digital dust in my iTunes.
Embracing Change
It seems this is a rite of passage into middle age. Moms are often stereotyped as having questionable music taste. I remember my own mother jamming to Basia on her treadmill while I rolled my eyes, unable to fathom her disdain for The Violent Femmes. Now, the tables have turned, and I find myself in the same position.
The reality is that my sense of coolness—or lack thereof—doesn’t hold the same weight at 41 as it did at 21. I revel in this newfound musical freedom. With age comes the comfort of knowing myself better. I no longer need a curated playlist to define my life. Music used to be a shorthand for categorizing myself and others, but I’ve learned that someone’s musical preferences say little about their true character. I don’t have time for music snobs now; I’m too busy with more significant matters. I can appreciate diverse genres, and believe it or not, I’ve even stumbled upon a few country songs that I genuinely enjoy. Take that, teenage me!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to enjoy some Taylor Swift. After that, I might even indulge in some classic ’70s yacht rock. Bring on Christopher Cross!
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Summary
Embracing a more eclectic taste in music, I’ve come to appreciate the freedom that comes with age. No longer bound by the need to fit into musical categories, I’ve learned that music doesn’t define who I am. From high school lunch tables to the freedom of adulthood, my journey reflects a shift in perspective that celebrates diverse musical genres.
Keyphrase: Embracing Musical Freedom
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