Music is an acquired taste
by Liz Biggs
Forget about money, religion or politics — the dealbreaker in a relationship is musical taste. Imagine a punk rocker road-tripping with an avid bro-country fan. Sparks would fly. I briefly dated a divorced man in my twenties and asked him how his marriage ended. He replied, “She hated my favorite band — XTC.” Yeah, I would have had to break up with her too over that.
Musical taste is generally formed at a young age by parents, siblings, friends, lovers and whatever music is popular at the time. My older sisters played albums by Neil Young, Simon and Garfunkel, CSNY, Carole King, Cat Stevens, Elton John, the Beach Boys, America, and the Carpenters. Songs by those artists are nostalgically meaningful to me. My brothers played Led Zeppelin, Grand Funk, ZZ Top, Foghat, Deep Purple, and, of course, the Beatles and the Stones. So my teenage years were steeped in classic album rock.
In high school, the Gap Band, Journey, Foreigner, REO Speedwagon, Michael Jackson, Fleetwood Mac, Bruce Springsteen, the Doobie Brothers, the Sugarhill Gang and Rick James ruled the airwaves so I played along. Those songs bring back fun memories.
However, a seismic shift in my musical taste occurred during my college years. It was the early 80s — the MTV era — and I was totally into the Cars, Squeeze, the Clash, Elvis Costello, the Ramones, REM, Prince, Talking Heads, the Smiths, U2, the Police, the Stray Cats, the Kinks and Devo.
When I dated a musician, I dove even deeper into the music scene, discovering Cheap Trick, Big Star, the Jam, XTC, Velvet Underground, David Bowie, The Who, the Replacements, Iggy Pop, George Thorogood, Dwight Twilley, the Flamin’ Groovies and many more obscure jangle-pop bands that I love.
Studying abroad in London, hanging out with mohawked men, catapulted me further into the punk rock/new wave scene — The Cure, Buzzcocks, Violent Femmes, New Order, the Soft Boys, the Blue Nile and Aztec Camera. Moving to Atlanta after college, I went to as many live shows as possible at the 688 Club, the Roxy, the Cotton Club and Chastain Park. Seeing a band play live cements them into your musical fiber and endears them to you in a visceral way.
Marriage and kids can alter the course of your musical taste journey. Acquiring a car seat, stroller, crib and high chair means less records and concerts. You listen more to what you have on hand. My husband loves the Rolling Stones, the Kinks and Tom Petty, mostly because he saw them live in his college town — Gainesville. He could listen to those three bands 24/7 and be happy. I love those bands but need more variety. His favorite Stones album is “Let It Bleed;” mine is “Exile on Main Street.” But we both agreed on a Beatles song for our first dance at our wedding — “Here, There and Everywhere.” Our son just played it for us on the piano, and my heart melted.
Recently, I attended a birthday celebration for a friend a few years younger than me. The revelers knew all the words to songs I didn’t really know. I had never heard Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me,” and thought “Pour Some Sugar on Me” must be by Poison too. I’ve never heard Kid Rock, so I thought his song was Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” and started howling. I guess I missed out on their late 80s/early 90s hits because I was out of college and working 10 hours a day for Revlon. Then I started having babies and listening to Raffi and the Wiggles.
Nowadays, I’m in tune to my children’s favorite bands — Khruangbin, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Dead & Company, Pond, Tame Impala, Vulfpeck and Billy Strings. But sometimes when the kids come over, I’ll pull out my many cutout bin (iykyk) albums and play some obscure jangle pop or 1983 Scottish bands (12-string guitar solos rock!). My kids will be like, “Wow, Mom, this is really good. I thought the 80s was all Madonna and Guns N’ Roses.” Nope, not for me. Although I did sit next to Axl Rose’s girlfriend, Stephanie Seymour, at a Revlon dinner one time. She was our model for a new product launch. She ate three green beans and none of her chicken. She didn’t like chicken. And I didn’t like Guns N’ Roses. But guess what? I really like that Cheap Trickish Poison song my friends turned me onto. Musical taste evolves and ch ch ch changes over time, and maybe the older you get, the more willing you are to listen.
