John Mayer "Something Like Olivia"

There have been plenty of good and not so good reasons to be on the fence about liking a song for mvyradio.

It's too poppy. 

It's too esoteric.

It's too repetitive.

But this is a first.

I didn't want to add this one because I don't want to think about John Mayer dating my daughter.

When I saw this song on the "Born And Raised" track list, I smiled at the title "Something Like Olivia," because that's my daughter's name.

But when I actually heard the track, it made me feel queasy.

Now, it's not at all unusual to hear John Mayer sing about girls.  It's not too unusual to hear John Mayer sing (overconfidently) about his own sexuality.  It's not unusual to hear John Mayer put the women in his songs in a space where they seem a little like props to be moved around within in a Mayer-sexual diorama.

But what IS unusual, is to imagine your own daughter, in that role.

When John Mayer keeps singing her name, it's hard not to.  And it's hard not to become enraged.

Hey, I know it is totally cliche for a parent of a young child (Olivia is 5) to obsess about what might happen during the teenage years when your kid discovers his/her sexuality.  But every time one of my friends who had kids a decade earlier than I tells me a story about some misadventure their teen was involved in, cliche or not, it feels real.

And certainly, having once been young, I have first-person knowledge that the world does have more than its fair share of lecherous, John Mayer-like lady-killers.

So, back to the song. 

Are my misplaced hang-ups a good reason to not play a particular tune on mvyradio?  Am I perhaps unfairly projecting parental anxiety onto Mr. Mayer?

No.  And Yes.

So we'll play this song on the station. 

And when you hear it, you can imagine me sitting in the mvy studio, queasy with misplaced paternal agita.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Loudon Wainwright III "Daughter"

A Father's Day post, post-Father's Day . . .

This was our first, special, get-away trip, since she'd become a big sister.

A brother had arrived the previous April, and our formerly one-and-only child had been sharing the spotlight with a new brother.

She'd done surprisingly well.  Better than I'd expected.  Jealously and weirdness was fairly minimal.

And we'd reached a point where we felt comfortable enough to leave him with my parents for an overnight, so that Mom, Dad and daughter could have a little adventure.

The hotel had a pool.  My daughter had never taken a swimming lesson, but did like to splash around in a kiddie pool.

My wife had the idea to buy a pair of "Floaties" for her arms.  They had Nemo on them, and my daughter thought they looked kind of cool.

But nothing prepared her for how cool things were about to get.

My wife carried her into the pool, as she had in other pools on other occasions.  But then she put her down, holding just her hands.  Then she let go of her hands.

My daughter was shocked to find that she was floating by herself, without any help from us.

"I'M SWIMMING!  EVERYBODY!  I'M SWIMMING!"  She waved to the nonplussed pool-goers, who were unaware of the monumental occasion happening before their eyes.

"LOOK EVERYBODY!  I'M SWIMMING!!!"

She simply couldn't contain herself, or her pride.

And I thought to myself, "That's my daughter in the water."  I could barely contain myself either.



Hear the song on Youtube.