04-03-00 Eastern Echo

Music made me do it...or the art of the cultural excuse

"Punk is dead!" Or at least that's what I thought they said. Maybe it was "Pop is dead!" I can't say for sure, I haven't been paying much attention. Music anywhere, everywhere Punk, ska, rock&ldots;whatever. It's all out there, somewhere on the radio dial. Our tastes in music can be satisfied in more immediate ways than was once the case. Used to be, you sat in front of your portable stereo, waiting for the DJ to play that groovy song by Abba so you could record it on a cassette tape. (I know, absolutely prehistoric.) Today, music is just a click away. The Internet, MP3, and digital recordings have made the distribution of music everyone's favorite stock to invest in. Dot coms dedicated to the distribution of music and entertainment are the rage on Wall Street. Everyone sees the value in instant gratification of the musical urge. Including the bands themselves. Self-promotion via the Internet has exploded into a "must-have" rather than a "kinda cool to have." Punch the words "punk music" into any search engine and you'll find an average of 200,000 pages to browse among. "Folk music" will land you about 350,000 possible sites. Amazon.com lists 349 titles in their "ska" collection, and gospel hits a high note with 789 titles at the same site. What is this saying about us, the consumers of music? We want it ALL. Like me. My tastes in music run eclectic; some days I'm grooving to Soul Coughing and others to Anni DeFranco. I'm a product of my upbringing. My mother was a Tom Jones pussycat, my brothers were Beatle's wannabes, Dad took a shining to the Rod Stewart single "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy," released in the late 70's. (We won't go into the subsequent psychotherapy bills I've incurred due to this unfortunate episode of parental stupidity.) Since I was exposed to a wide range of musical expression I find myself unable (or unwilling) to fit neatly into one mold of musical consumerism. Amazon must be having a fit, trying to sell me "follow-up selections" from the online profile I've created with my clicking and buying. Music and culture Along with the music inevitably comes the fashion. They are the donuts with the coffee, the ball with the chain, the jock-strap and the&ldots;ah, jock. Thankfully the 200-pound gold chain look has fallen by the wayside, but I'm still tripping over the jeans that hang down past my ass. Why are we doomed to repeat ourselves? Why are we doomed to repeat ourselves? (Oh, sorry.) Today, walking on campus, I saw a girl in 5-inch platform shoes. All I could think about was that I'd be at least 5 inches taller if I had a pair. I'm no stranger to the music-fashion faux pas. I thought I was the ultimate in cool back in the 70's, sporting those white go-go boots and wide-legged hip-hugger jeans. Same for my minimalist 80's garb; I was hot in tight jeans and men's plain white undershirts that made me feel like a female James Dean. (Why James Dean? It's all my father's fault, that's what my therapist said.) Fortunately, I missed the 90's. Too busy popping out the shorties&ldots;er, babies. Maternity clothes are always a faux pas. But isn't that what we should expect? That as we grow, and change, our musical tastes grow and change with us. The music we chose to listen to defines us for that moment in time. The music fuels our perceptions of ourselves and the world we live in. It helps us to form an identity of beliefs and attitudes. But on the negative side, it can also be counted on to lead us down frightening fashion boulevards we should have never traveled. That's okay. The world can forget (or forgive) Madonna's trademarked permed and teased mass of hair from her "Material Girl" days. Just like we'll be laughing in ten years about wearing pants so big and loose we were unable to walk at a pace faster than a shuffle. Our attitudes, our fashions, our perceptions of the world-all tied to what we plug in to when we finally get to collapse on our sofas after a long day of schooling/working/living. So hold your breath while the next group of earnest young performers bombard you with products and images on the airwaves and over the Internet. This too, shall pass. Hopefully before I'm tempted to wear those baby-doll half shirts like Britney Spears and Chistina Aguilera. �