The Death of Enthusiasm

The following statement may or may not be true:

The kind of music a person is raised listening to may very well determine what kind music they will like in the future, or if they even like listening to music at all.

I would propose that those people exposed to a wide range of music at a young age by parents who clearly enjoy playing it will also develop a love of music. Meanwhile, those who do not hear much music growing up may come to see it merely as something to distract their attention or as background noise rather than an art form. I don't have any evidence to support this claim, but it seems like it might be true based on my experiences.

Even if there is no link between the music you were weened on and what you like now, it probably retains a special home in your consciousness. For example, I can summon pretty much any song from The Moody Blues' greatest hits record and play it in the virtual jukebox inside my head. Why is this? During countless car trips and Saturday morning house-cleaning sessions my dad would blast the Moodies until we begged for mercy(maybe no one besides me begged for mercy?). I clearly hated this music as a child, yet I soon realized that whether I liked or not, "Knights in White Satin" was burned onto my being and I had to accept it. (I can still recite the spoken word portion of the song if you ask me to).

Other music seared into my very soul: the entire "Tommy" album by The Who, various songs by The Carpenters and Simon & Garfunkel, The Grease soundtrack, the whole Disney box set, Bette Midler, Michael Bolton, The Mannheim Steamroller Christmas albums, Linda Ronstadt, and quite of bit of classical/choral music plus the entire discography of Michael McLean.

What about y'all? What music was ingrained into every fiber of your being? Be honest, there are no judgments here.

Labels: music, The Poptometrist