A musical journey . . .

I was the child of hippies.  My dad loved music.  My mom tolerated it.  Truthfully it kind of annoys her.  She always says it's "too much input".  My dad gave me a healthy appreciation for music.  He worked at a factory and worked 7 days on and 2 days off.  I can remember being blasted awake early in the morning on his days off with blaring music.  He made me love classic rock.  He liked the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and that genre, but he also loved Mott the Hoople, Black Sabbath, AC-DC, and Blue Oyster Cult.  Really the only thing that was not allowed in our house was Pink Floyd.  I can vividly remember one day bringing home the Wish You Were Here on vinyl from a trip to Wooden Nickel.  My dad said, "No Pink Floyd in the house.  And if you play it I better not hear it."  I was shocked.  My friend Angie thought it was probably a bad memory from a bad trip long ago! Tee-Hee.

Anyhoo, I had a foundation for loving music.  As I grew into a teenager and my tastes turned to punk and alternative music, (you know back when my hair was pink the first time, LOL).  MY dad was actually supportive.  He didn't like it, but he could appreciate me liking something out of the norm.  I loved the Ramones, Social Distortion, Dead Kennedys, Sinead O'Connor, Dead Milkmen, Janes Addiction, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Sonic Youth etc.  As I grew my tastes migrated a little to The Replacements, Edie Brickell, Smithereens, the Smiths, The Pixies, Elvis Costello, Pearl Jam, Bush and all that groovy angst-ridden teens music mixed with some of what my friend Andy used to call "tingly-England shit".  You know before 38 year old moms had pink hair and back when tattoos made you scary to "normal" people.  Back when we were outcasts and enjoyed it. 

When I got married to a hippie I went full circle right back to classic rock.  He tolerated my music, but I knew he didn't like it so it was relegated to when I was alone in the car or cleaning the house, or the shower.   I didn't mind, I enjoyed getting back to classic rock and with the death of my father shortly before I met Robert it helped me feel close to him.

So that brings us to the present.  I still break out Elvis Costello or Lloyd Cole  or jam to Matchbox 20 (swoon) while I am alone, but I have discovered Country.  Crazy I know.  But it all started innocently enough with talk of meeting some blogger friends at a Kenny Chesney concert.  I had heard that Kenny Chesney fans know how to tailgate and a friend at work was a big fan so we went.  I spent the entire summer listening to Kenny albums and memorizing songs so I wouldn't look like a fool.    I enjoyed it.   And we had a spectacular day at the concert.   She wisely said to me one day, "Sheri, you do know that there is some really great country music out there, you should give it a try."  She suggested some artists that I would like and the rest is, as they say, history.  

So today as I am driving in the car listening to my mix CD (I totally just typed "mixed tape" LOL) I was thinking about my musical journey.  I was thinking about how my former self would choke me if she knew I was listening to Jessica Simpson's new country song (which by the way is AMAZING) or Darrius Rucker's journey into country music (who my friend Tim refers to as  Blow-Me and the Hootie Fish).  

Well, maybe she wouldn't be to upset with me.  She was always a little bit of a rebel. . .