“Your Dad has some interesting music on his iPod.”
This was an apparently ironic statement made to my daughter by my son-in-love, a fan of old-school R&B, hip-hop, rap and Nickelback. After a visit to my Grandchild Delivery Device and her posse, I discovered that I had left my iPod behind. Bing scrolled through my selections and noted the eclectic nature of my collection to my daughter, Lisa. Years later, Lisa’s mother (my first bride) asked me to provide music for her family reunion and that same iPod was put into service. It delivered barely noticeable background music until Enrico Caruso began to sing, stimulating a general outcry of objection.
I have a couple of friends in St. Louis, Mo., who have huge catalogs of music. I worked with one of them and with the wife of the other. Both of them would make me CDs of music. Bob’s offerings were usually of old-school R&B, while Fran’s husband, Paul, would give me exposure to a broad range of musical genres. I did not love all that I heard, but I learned to appreciate that music was universal, an integral part of every culture and class of humanity.
The ABCs of my musical collection include Alternative and Punk, Big Band and Blues, Classical and Country, Electronica/Dance, Folk Rock, Hip-Hop/Rap and Jazz. This is by no means a complete list but a peek through the window into my musical heart. I most often have my iPod on “shuffle all songs,” so I cannot predict what song or genre will be up next. Jazz violinist Regina Carter’s cover of Ella Fitzgerald’s classic “A Tisket, a Tasket” could be followed by Kenny Chesney’s country delivery of “Old Blue Chair,” with classical recording artist Jubilant Sykes singing “Today.” The Beatles will pop in for a song, then give way to The Black-Eyed Peas, who will yield the stage to Kris Kristofferson. The least likely offering will be so-called “hard core” Rap, a genre I can barely tolerate, but to which I can listen for a short while. Which is why I was disappointed when the family reunion attendees chased away Enrico.
Many years ago, when I worked in advertising for a department store in St. Louis, all employees were required to attend seminars designed to teach an understanding of, and the importance of ethnic and cultural diversity in the workplace. The managers of the seminars focused on changing the language of inclusion to shift away from “tolerance,” to “acceptance.” The question posed in one of the sessions that I attended was, “Do you want to be merely ‘tolerated,’ or would ‘acceptance’ be preferable?” (I believe that there were some in the audience who struggled with definitions, but the managers were able to guide us all to ‘acceptance.’) In that same store, I was idly singing a song, and in the cubicle across from my office, a man called out to me: “Uh, CJ…? I did not have you pegged for country music.” I told the man that I shoot pool in bars with people who play nothing but country music on the juke box; it had become a part of the background tapestry of music that permeated my life. I also followed and took photos for a head-banging heavy metal “screamer” band (another rare selection on my iPod).
My favorite musical genre is Jazz; I can listen — without tiring — to selections from this genre all day and night, every day and night. But I am willing to accept all of the other musical possibilities, including the Classical offerings from Enrico Caruso.