I have two young cousins…

and each year that passes becomes more and more mortifying for me. As I watch them grow into adulthood my mortality becomes more apparent. One is a freshman at UNC and resembles a young Malcolm McDowell circa “Oh Lucky Man, the other is a highschool junior, the very picture of a budding baseball athlete.

Music is the foundation of their lives (their parents are accomplished folk musicians and both boys play multiple instruments most remarkably).

So this Thanksgiving as we gathered to eat and conerse, I was quite worried about what we would talk about. Would I, approaching 42, have anything to contribute to these young friends? Would they dismiss me as an old fart? What music were they listening to? Probably Franz Ferdinand or Death Cab for Cutie – I know the names, but I haven’t the slightest interest in listening to the music.

So it was quite delightful after dinner when I heard one of my cousins sit down at my father-in-law’s baby grand and strike the opening cords of Radiohead’s Everything in its Right Place. “Oh god”, I thought, “the kid”s got a soul”.

This was most refreshing. Here we had something to talk about. Turns out both boys are diehard fans (and who wouldn’t be?). Joe liked Kid A, while Tom was still attached to Amnesiac (ok, it’s an album I still haven’t been able to penetrate). But we all agreed on one thing:

We didn’t understand Myxomatosis, but we couldn’t stop listening to it.


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