Over the past week, I’ve realized we make the 30 minute drive to school at a bad time as far as radio stations go. We’re lucky if we get a song or two in before the dj’s high pitch whiny voice takes over followed by weather, news, and commercials. We’re even luckier if the song we hear is not the same song we heard the day before.
The end of last week, I scanned stations, reluctantly stopping on the country station when my son shouted, “Oh, this is a good song!”
I have an extreme disliking for country music. I grew up listening to it, and recall loving it, but that was Johnny Cash, Jim Reeves and Merle Haggard. The last time I recall being captivated by country music was when the Dixie Chicks hit the charts for the first time. That was a while ago.
The song began a little alternative, immediately shrouded by Toby Keith’s twangy voice.
My oldest announced, “It sounded like a good song. You can change it now.”
To which I replied, “It was–until his voice ruined it.”
We all laughed and changed the station back to news.
Today, on our beautiful morning drive, I turned on the radio to hear the start of What Would You Say by Dave Matthews Band. I love Dave Matthews Band, but Ox doesn’t so I’ve never gone out to replace the albums I used to have. Asking the boys if they like the song, they both tell me they don’t. Sometimes I swear they are not mine.
They begin to comment on how they like the sound of the band and then, out of no where, my oldest shouts, “The music sounds great until the guy’s voice ruins it!”
Some how I’m getting that punch-in-the-gut feeling that I’ve taught my children to be unappreciative of good music.