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4/27/10: When the Music Stops.
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I have reached a new stage in life.
Most of the bands I patronized have disbanded, but I've stopped checking up on the others. I've stopped randomly browsing music stores. I've stopped trying to find out the name of a band that makes a song I like on the radio and I haven't been to a concert in months.

Music defined me as a kid. I spent my nights doing homework and recording songs onto tape off the radio. Every penny that I had went to the local music store. Even now, when I put in a CD from my youth, I still know all the words and all the chords. I went to concerts at every possible turn, I wrote to bands and I began to wear only concert t-shirts.

That identity did not persist much into college. Drinking took my money and everyone around me seemed to have a snobbish view of their music's superiority.

When I was a kid and I looked at my parent's vaste record collection, I marvelled at their love for music. But when I put on some Bad Religion in the car as they drove me to school, I could see the distaste they held for what moved me. I couldn't understand how two people who knew good music couldn't catch the same joy I got from punk and post-punk rock chords. I understand now.

The radio has always sucked. I was a strong proponent of that ideal. The good bands never make it on, it's all politics, whatever. But I think I'm safe to assume that Coachella is the barometer for what is 'in.' And if that's so, I just don't see it anymore. Today's music has progressed beyond my sensibilities of what can be enjoyable. I can now see myself turning down my kid's music, listening to talk radio and buying Christmas albums from the bands I used to enjoy, now in their winter years.

From creating a musical identity to now rejecting the modern musical identity, the only stage left is when I'm yelling at all the damn kids to turn down that God-awful racket.