“We fear we are, like, way too old”

"So, we were going to use this space to opine on some land use issue or other. Then we went down to the Team Winslow barbecue Monday evening for some dinner, and were largely deafened by the opening salvo of street-dance entertainment, an island rock band calling itself the Future.A hot dog! we yelled to the woman at the food booth. HOT DOG! The server just looked at us helplessly until we pointed to the proper tray; we paid our three bucks and sulked off to munch away in a corner, realizing that whatever point we were going to make about island zoning had been bludgeoned from our mind by a pounding bass guitar. But what the hey - we can talk about music."

“So, we were going to use this space to opine on some land use issue or other. Then we went down to the Team Winslow barbecue Monday evening for some dinner, and were largely deafened by the opening salvo of street-dance entertainment, an island rock band calling itself the Future.A hot dog! we yelled to the woman at the food booth. HOT DOG! The server just looked at us helplessly until we pointed to the proper tray; we paid our three bucks and sulked off to munch away in a corner, realizing that whatever point we were going to make about island zoning had been bludgeoned from our mind by a pounding bass guitar. But what the hey – we can talk about music.It’s been observed that you know you’re getting old when you can’t understand the music your kids are listening to. We were reminded of a cartoon we clipped a few years ago, in which a balding man is told by his doctor that his audio processing cerebrum is deteriorating, and that he will never be able to enjoy, or even comprehend, new music again.Doctor: Listen to this tape. Do you hear exciting new melodies and rhythms, or just random clanging and screeching?Jones: Wow! This is amazing music. Catchy, yet poignant!Doctor: Denying your disability will only make it worse, Mr. Jones! This is a tape of random clanging and screeching, and you obviously can’t tell the difference!Jones: (sobbing) Yes! It’s true! I’ve been faking an interest in new music for years. I just couldn’t stand the thought of becoming ‘out of it’ like my parents!Monday, we fear, a lot of those who came down for the barbecue found something a little overbearing in all the random clanging and screeching of the amazing, catchy and poignant new music.Now, the editor of this newspaper may be accused of succumbing to creeping old-fogey-ism, but our neighbors can attest that we have the loudest stereo on the block – even if it’s blaring as much Sinatra as Soundgarden these days. And we still find ourselves coming home bleary-eyed on the late-late boat sometimes, even if we make our jaunts to Seattle to hear our favorite college bands of 10 years ago cling valiantly to their post-punk credibility. At least we’re trying.Moreover, we have nothing against the Future, which we would observe to be a decent band in the Pearl Jam vein; we have featured the up-and-coming outfit in this newspaper.But it’s an irony worth noting that an event intended to promote community rendered its practical manifestations – conversation, interaction, fellowship – impossible, at least while loud rock music was blasting from the stage. Things toned down a bit later with a dance performance by the Swingin’ Hepcats, demonstrating that swing music continues to enjoy an unlikely, albeit welcome, pan-generational appeal. Then headliners No Clue unfurled the classic rock banner and made a game showing of it. But by the 10 o’clock hour, with a few hardy exceptions, most questionable hairlines had receded all the way home and into bed, while oldies like Little Sister and Secret Agent Man just left the kids confused.To be sure, a lot of people had a lot of fun. But we think Team Winslow may have gotten its programming backwards. Next time, put the oldies up first, and leave those loud young bucks for the youngsters later. They’re the ones who want to be bouncing around in the street after the sun goes down, long after the rest of us have taken our Geritol and called it a night.”