For Just a Minute, I Thought I was Cool

After you reach a certain age, it becomes more and more difficult to avoid letting your musical taste stagnate, and then begin to atrophy. In college days, I seemed to keep up with the latest great music simply through osmosis. After law school, and kids, and middle-agedness, though, the temptation to replay the same Springsteen, Costello, Neil Young, Tom Petty, Joe Jackson, Sting, Bob Marley, Cars, Dylan, Billy Joel (I know, but . . .), Chuck Berry, Talking Heads, Eurythmics, Graham Parker, REM, and Warren Zevon albums - or their CD replacements - becomes overwhelming.

I've fought against it, though. I try to keep up. I check out music blogs, from the local (and aptly named) Extraordinary to the oh-so-hip Fluxblog.

On the way back from New Orleans, Sam dished up a treat. He hooked his iPod into my speakers and fed us some new and dazzling Kanye West, which was nice, but then he hit us with The Hold Steady. Solid rock and lyrics that Dylan would admire.

So, on Monday, I was a proud member of what I thought was a small group of up-to-date music lovers. It felt like college days. I was kind of looking forward to dropping Andrea D an email ("Hey, Andrea - you might want to check out the The Hold Steady. They're good stuff, with a bullet.").

Imagine my horror, then, when I heard NPR do a feature on them yesterday, on All Things Considered, describing their album Separation Sunday as "one of the best-reviewed records of the year". Sigh. I'm at the same level of hipness as Melissa Block, Michele Norris, and Robert Siegel.