I had an MRI today; the tech was a giant gym bro. Very sharp. Nice haircut. Very polite and professional. He asked me what I wanted to listen to during the test. I drew a blank. This was because I had to take a quarter of a pill to keep my mild claustrophobia. “No preference.”
“Are you sure? We have Pandora…”
“Just something, soft. Nothing jarring. I think I’m just going to get in there, close my eyes and pray,” I said.
“That’d be best,” he responded.
I relaxed pretty well in the tube and some soft love song came on. Initially, I thought about his age, against mine. The song was something standard; a guy cooing about his endless love. I was a bit embarrassed, or rather, it registered, this is the category of music for my set. I didn’t think it was wrong or off. I was familiar with the song and the next song and the next. Common music from my era, whether I specifically listened to it or not. I was struck by how soft it all was. Muted and simple, softly coddling the heart.
By the time the last song played, I was jolted. I was contrasting it with modern music; the old music sounded like something you’d play in a mental ward, during “medication time”. This is when it hit me, if you wonder why the generations have trouble relating, this explains quite a bit.
For the record, I don’t think ours is better then theirs. At least they get to be awake!
Do you ever ponder the effects of a genoration’s music?