Without wanting to sound like a snob, I have started to judge people on what they listen to and the music in their collection.
Music is a huge part of my life and so when I’m perusing through someone’s record/CD/download collection and I see a right stinker, I make a judgement.
I’m by no means perfect, I have got some absolute muck in my eclectic selection of CDs – Boney M’s Gold is a gleaming example.
I can’t remember buying it, but occasionally Daddy Cool will make a cameo appearance. I wouldn’t want to hear it every day, but there’s a time and a place for fruity camp disco in everybody’s life.
One thing that I have become mindful of is that a parent’s musical taste can leave a lifelong legacy in the psyche of their children.
I was fortunate. Being a seventies child, I indulged on a glut of musical genius. It would be today’s equivalent of a child eating a free range organic carrot dipped in acid free Peruvian rain.
I’ve still got a lot of my parent’s vinyl (if you’re under the age of 25, these were plastic disks the size of an American’s dinner plate – mostly damaged, but igniting dreams for millions) and there are some classics. The Beatles, ABBA, The Rolling Stones, John Lennon, T-Rex etc.
I can vividly remember sitting in my old man’s faux leather chair, dropping the needle on the Beatles’ Help. It was a good time for music and their tastes have shaped mine.
As dad to a five-year-old and a nine-month-old, I’m toiling to broaden my children’s musical horizons and give them an insight into the past, present and future.
By the year 2020, my son will be sat in his bedroom watching a real-time live performance hologram by Anaglypta 4 (not only a style of wallpaper, but a good name for a band of the future).
Being a big fan of rock music, guitars and drums are the meat and potatoes of our musical feast. My daughter loves to jump around to her pop tunes like Girls Aloud, Lady Gaga and JLS, but will she look back in 25 years time and recant Alexandra Burke lyrics?
In true Dickensian fashion, I sit her down and offer a tutorial of something a bit more ‘old skool’, in the hope that her little eyes light up and she connects with Led Zeppelin. One of the proudest moments of my life so far was when she was three and started air-guitaring without being prompted.
This week little Jack has been getting to grips with the Wings epic, Live and Let Die. His head bobbing and sporadic shouting indicated that he loves it. Although he displayed the same chaotic enthusiasm for a TV advert for stain remover.