Steely Dan came on the radio, and, unusually, I did not change the channel.
If I'm in the car with my wife, and Steely Dan comes on, I instinctively either turn down the volume, or surf to the next channel.
My wife does not like Steely Dan. At all.
But it was Christmas Eve and we were going to my Aunt Peg's house, so when Steely Dan's "Peg" came on, I left it on.
My wife was into something. Looking at her iPad. Talking to the kids. I can't quite remember. But whatever the distraction, "Peg" did not register with her.
But I couldn't help singing.
"It's your favorite foreign movie . . ."
"Steely Dan!?! Ugh. I hate Steely Dan," she mock moaned.
She didn't have to real moan, because she we've been married long enough to know that she knows that I know that she hates Steely Dan.
"Yeah," I said, "but this is the most mainstream/tolerable of their work, right?"
"Yeah it is."
"Plus, we're going to Auntie Peg's house, so . . . I had to keep it on."
"Yeah."
"It's a good song."
Long pause.
"It just takes me right back."
My wife's father loves Steely Dan. And back when records like "Aja" and "Katy Lied" were out, he LOVED Steely Dan.
She can't hear a Steely Dan song without being instantly transported to the 1970s of her childhood.
But even then, she didn't like them.
Something about the weird tension in the songs. The creepy, oblique lyrics. The overly pristine sound. Something about Steely Dan rubbed her the wrong way in the 1970s. And still does.
And yet, she knows every song. Every word. Every inflection. Because her Dad listened all the time.
It made me think about my own kids.
Yes, today we'll play Mumford And Sons and The Beatles and Janelle Monae and who knows what else, ad finitum around our house and in our car. And we'll be thinking we're doing the kids a favor by sharing our awesome jams. But inevitably, they're going to silently hate some of it.
And in the year 2045, my daughter will be driving with her spouse (or perhaps flying with her spouse in her space hover craft), and some old song will come over the transom and she'll find herself singing along, awash in a mix of nostalgia and resentment for her lovely childhood and her parents' terrible taste in music.
"Peg, it will come back to you . . ."
Hear the song on Youtube.
Isn't it possible that when you've heard a band's songs too much it kills their music for you for life? Like getting sick on pernod in high school, you can't ever think about it again without feeling ill, let alone drink it. Oh, and the "Peg" in the song is about "Aunt Peg," aka Juliet Anderson.
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