A Living Anachronism

Ask me about the new Lady Gaga song or the latest hit on the Billboard Top 100, and I probably wouldn’t know it without taking a peek at iTunes. Although I agree it’s fun to break out and dance to the Katy Perry’s single of the month and as much as I enjoy the whole-hearted lyrics of Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole, my musical soul can best be defined by the most pure and passionate form of music, rock.
Specifically, rock stemming from the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s era. Of course, the melodic choruses and badass guitar solos are a deciding factor, but even more so it’s the entire culture behind the lyrics.
The first time I watched a VH1 greatest hits countdown, I fell in love. My eyes and ears glued to the T.V. as number 29, Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me played. Blondie and Duran Duran’s music videos were nothing like the rump shaking rap videos of my generation. The clothes were different, yet at the same time fresh and fun. I scrambled trying to type each song on the countdown into the search bar of Limewire. It was as if I had made some grand discovery; my head was spinning with adrenaline, I finally felt a part of something. This music which had once defined an era had now defined me.
That was eighth grade. And not long after that show, my peers started noticing my obscure music tastes. I started dressing like Madonna (virgin tour period that is) with ear buds always in blasting hair metal down the hallways. With the Abercrombie and Hollister drones which circled the middle school hallways, it was to needless to say I received some glares. Being a self-conscious pre-teen, I decided to trade in my leg warmers for skinny jeans and my bright blue eye shadow for a more neutral tone. On my iPod, I downloaded all the latest hits to keep up with my friends.
But in the privacy of my room, I secretly rocked out to Aerosmith and Nirvana. I discovered a newfound love for Tom Petty and Led Zeppelin with a little probing into my dad’s CD collection. Although it was all old music, it was new to me.
In the midst of my high school career, I finally began to Live And Let Die. I deleted all the obnoxious teeny pop songs and made room for my collection of Guns N’ Roses. I broke out my plaid shirts and combat boots (clearly I was progressing into a grunge phase). I was ready to come out of the rock and roll closet.
Along the way, I realized there were others like me who appreciated the mood-catching songs of Pearl Jam and melancholy melodies of The Cure. These were the bands I could empathize with, that I could relate to. Finally, I was proud to admit that It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me.