| A little too soon for golden oldies
Pre-sets on your radio? Phonograph, 8-track, or iPod? Ready or not,
your musical midlife crisis is looming.
By Keith Forrest ’88
When I was a student at Glassboro in the 1980’s, I thought
I would always be cool. After all, I was program director at WGLS-FM,
the hip college radio station. We played alternative music and
we knew all the up-and-coming bands before anyone else did.
A few years ago, I borrowed my father-in-law’s van to move
some furniture. My wife Kris and I howled when we saw the cassette
tape collection. It was filled with all sorts of dentist office
music: John Denver, The Turtles and Peter, Paul & Mary. When
we turned on his car radio, a similar group of golden oldies came
spewing out of the speakers.
The other day Kris and I sat in our living room listening to a
1980’s music station with our 2-year-old son, Kameron. “Oh,
my God,” I suddenly exclaimed. “This is a golden oldies
station, isn’t it?” My wife reminded me that I am the
father of two sons. How cool could I be?
I tried to console myself by concluding that the Psychedelic Furs,
The Cure, The Clash, REM and U2 are cooler than the music my father-in-law
keeps in his van. But I am not so sure that is how my sons will
see it a few years from now. They’ll probably say, “Dad,
you listen to old music.” I’ll try to regale them with
stories of my days as a Glassboro D.J. But it probably won’t
do any good.
Every generation goes through this. We get locked into the music
of our youth, and the memories tied up in those songs. There are
at least 500 from the 1980’s that conjure up specific Glassboro
moments for me. “Born in the USA” by Bruce Springsteen
always makes me think of freshman year in Mimosa Hall. Two guys
who lived at the end of the second floor hallway played Springsteen
24 hours a day. I am not exaggerating: their boom box blared “The
Boss” for 28 solid weeks in 1984–1985. Looking back
on it, they should probably be in the Guinness Book of World Records.
Another song that always slaps me back to the 1980’s Glassboro
is “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince. It was one of
those songs we jammed to every Thursday night, the big party night
at Glassboro in those days.
If I had received payment for each time I did “The Bird” with
my friends, I wouldn’t be working right now. We did that
goofy dance to the not-so-clever song by The Time about 1,000 times.
We would flap our arms and attempt to saunter across the dance
floor just like Morris Day, The Time’s lead singer. Looking
back on it, maybe we weren’t so cool then, either.
Kris’s college musical memories are filled with mixer songs
from her sorority parties. Rob Bass and Bobby Brown appear to have
been the official musicians of her sorority. Kris spent much of
her college years gyrating to songs like “Joy and Pain” and “My
Prerogative.”
Perhaps it’s time to face our musical midlife crisis: We
upgraded our cassette tapes to CDs, but our taste in tunes is trapped
in the 1980’s. Someday my daughter-in-law will borrow my
car. She and my son will no doubt giggle maniacally when they see
my CD collection of Men at Work, Madonna, Billy Idol, Journey and
other assorted 1980’s acts. But then I will be able to find
comfort in the fact that my son will face the same treatment from
his kids.
The college experience ultimately becomes a tangle of selectively
vivid memories. We remember all-night cram sessions, but not the
score we received on the test. We remember the sights and sounds
of a legendary party, but not where it was held. We remember the
emotion of graduation day, but not the advice doled out by the
commencement speaker. Yet, all college memories echo with the beat
of the music we played in our dorms and apartments, cars and bars,
for dances and dates. And before we know it, the music of our college
days becomes the music of our life.
______________________________
Keith Forrest ’88 lives in Edinboro, Pa., with his wife,
Kris, and his sons, Kameron and Joshua.
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