Wednesday, November 15, 2006

I'm becoming my mother

It was somewhere around the 580-238 interchange, somewhere between my third or forth listen of Thirteen by Ben Kweller, right during the harmonica interlude, when I realized I had become my mother. I didn't really want to. It just happened. It's like Ally Sheedy said. It's not that this revelation is new. I've always sensed it. There are just certain things I can't quite escape no matter how hard I try, our shared predilection for chewing on our fingernails, the way we both get overly-invested in an arguement, our inherent need to bitch for thirty minutes whilst wanting none of our problems solved because all we wanted to do was bitch, we didn't want to like solve our issues and stuff, Damnit. All these things I knew.

What I didn't know? I have somehow been accumulating several albums that my mother would intrinsically like. I always thought that one the issue of music, there was at least a degree or two of separation. My mom's not into punk but Tim Armstrong is my co-pilot. My mom is a bit obsessed with Bruce Springsteen, whereas I'm indifferent. My mother's fixation for singer-songwriters the likes of John Prine, Tom Waits, Billy Joe Shaver, and the ilk is a little much for me to handle sometimes. My mother, still to this day does not see what I see (or saw) in No Doubt. This is kind of a point of pride for me or has been for awhile. Assertion of individuality if you will. Sure, we've always had little intersections of musical agreement. Nick Drake for instance. We both love his stuff, which is fine, as long as my tolerance for Muddy Water's back catalog remains relatively low. (Before you open outlook and run off a pointed e-mail about the importance of blues greats, understand that I like the blues, just not as much as my moms, which is totally fine by me.)

But now, that play book got thrown out the window. Alot of the music I've been listening to, I can see my mother realy getting into. Part of this is my co-worker's fault, because he's been lending me music that, while I might not pick it out for myself on any given music run, I end up giving myself over to. Ben Kweller? Something my mother would totally love. My other new favorite, Persephonie's Bees? Could've sworn I've heard it in my own mother's music collection, only it was called It's a Beautiful Day. Cat Power? My mother would totally love Cat Power, especially because she's like Lucinda Williams except less smokey. Rocky Votolato? Run Run Run? Totally my mom's style. Which means, I'm turning into my mother musically. Which makes me want to run out and buy the Lords of Acid back catalog (as if we don't have most of their albums already), and sing Bloodhound Gang songs obnoxiously at the top of my lungs just to quelsh the musical genetics that happen to be at play. Damn you Ben Kweller, for making a song that got me all teared up but reminded me I'm my mother's daughter musically. How dare you!


Meowkaat said...

heheheee... yeah, I find myself doing my mother's laugh. the one that annoys me. coming out of my mouth, more and more frequently. gak.

The Bloody Munchkin said...

Doesn't that suck? Stuff that you promised yourself you'd never do, you all the sudden end up doing. Darn you Genetics!!!