Too Hip for the Room

Is how I feel about halfway through a Martini.

My adorable husband scrolls though music channels on Directv looking for interesting bands and concert footage. Palladia has proved fruitful, with concerts such as the Benicassim Festival 2013 with acts like the Kaiser Chiefs, the Arctic Monkeys, Primal Scream and the almost retro Red Hot Chili Peppers, which Steve thinks might be of interest to me and therefore records. Enter the Martini. Instead of tuning to a music channel we check out these concerts he’s recorded while enjoying our adult beverage. And quite frankly, I have never fit the demographic for the music I’ve listened to for my entire life so this feels ok.

I won’t go into detail about how one of my “chaperones” needed to sleep on our couch that night or the shrubs he killed in our yard, but just let it be known that I’ve been holding my liquor well for a very long time.

Cue my 16^th birthday when friends (somewhat older friends) convinced my trusting parents that taking me out for my birthday, while I was still under age, was a good idea. Early twenties John and his best friend Dave took me (and my older cousin who John had the hots for) out to dinner and a club. At 16 I was able to convince multiple bartenders I was at least 25 with musical knowledge (and flirting) befitting a much older gal. I was good with the oldies. I won’t go into detail about how one of my “chaperones” needed to sleep on our couch that night or the shrubs he killed in our yard, but just let it be known that I’ve been holding my liquor well for a very long time.

Now my knowledge of the current alternative genre goes in the opposite direction. Before my time? Ahead of my time? Who the hell cares. Especially after a Martini.

Pardon the interruption, but the Arctic Monkeys just played I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor, and I had to get up and dance.

So how hip do I ever feel? Well, viewing Elvis Costello’s show Spectacle always made me feel hip. Sting and the Police, Bono and the Edge, the late Levon Helm, and especially the show with Lou Reed and Julian Schnabel. I wept at Julian’s recitation of Rock Minuet, a Lou Reed lyric from Ecstasy. And then Lou died. I’ve felt like my heart has been ripped out several times when artists for whom I’ve had tremendous respect have died. Lou Reed was one of them. So feeling hip becomes a bane.

Pardon the interruption, but the Kaiser Chiefs just played Ruby, and I had to get up and dance, again.

I view these prerecorded concerts and look at the audience. There’s always a grey haired guy who obviously took one for the team (his kids) and should get the reward for best dad ever, right up there with my mom and my sister-in-law Rose for braving the mongrel hordes to get me into Jesus Christ Superstar in the early 70’s. Not being a parent I don’t quite understand, but have the utmost respect for the whole “you do what you gotta do” thing. And being a fan of many music genres I am always impressed by families who’ve figured out the multiple generations listening to the same music thing. Although I can’t imagine my mom or dad EVER listening to the Low Fidelity Allstars. But I do. Which is why I guess I’ll always be too hip for the room, but only if there’s a Martini. Pass the olives.