Column #27: An old-school road trip, one tune at a time

When I was younger, I was not always happy. I found some solace for my suburban frustrations in loud, aggressive music – punk, avant-garde noise and, mostly, heavy metal. I was an angry teen boy in central Florida at a, well, happy time for fans of heavy music. Napalm Death bleated, “You suffer!” and I nodded in agreement as I set the dinner table, miserable in the knowledge that I still needed to finish my homework.

In hindsight, I probably would have spent my time more wisely becoming a Goth. As some of my suffering came from a lackluster social life, posing as a Goth would have put me in closer proximity to girls. Sure, most lacked the looks and charm of the late ‘80’s Winona Ryder model, but it would have been good practice.

As I matured, I began to realize that most civilized young ladies don’t necessarily respond well to Slayer, Overkill or Carcass. (Their loss). I learned that while most well-bred gals don’t always need to be wooed with Nat ‘King’ Cole, the latter was always better than a romantic setting of dinner, candles, flowers and Pantera.

If the woman I married had had a similar interest in such music, it wouldn’t be a problem. We could share a delightful bubble bath while enjoying the sounds of Morbid Angel together. However, she is a grown woman, not an angry boy, and therefore is more interested in, say, The Shins or the Arcade Fire when it comes to listening to music for pleasure.

It’s not a problem, really, because I, too, am an adult, now, and notably less aggressive these days. If I need a fix of “Reign in Blood,” it’s easily accessed online; I don’t need to spend much time anymore with such expression. Plus, I’ve always been a music fan first; even when I subscribed to “Metal Maniacs,” I also listened to R.E.M., Willie Nelson, Ice Cube and lots of other different music.

In too many years of bad dating, I eventually learned this as well as other lessons, I guess, because someone married this, after all. While this distinction between the genders is, of course, not always so simple – I have 30-something female friends, who, unlike me, would still rather listen to Bad Brains than Joni Mitchell – I’ve found it to be fairly consistent.

In recent years, I’ve had another love – the “shuffle” button. Like many human Americans, my attention span has decreased over the past decade, thanks to evil, wonderful technology. I keep my music moving, sometimes unable to stay on a single song for too long. I’ve never wanted to be That Guy, the one who insists that “You have to hear this!,” plays a record for 20 seconds, then gets impatient and says, “No, wait! You need to hear this instead,” jumping from one to another like Jennifer Aniston picking a boyfriend.

So on a recent road trip to Chicago, I decided to try going back in time and selecting music the way the creator intended – one album at a time. The notion began simply enough; I thought 35 minutes of prime Beatles would get us moving in good spirits. Well, “Rubber Soul” led to the Rolling Stones’ “Exile on Main Street,” which, though a bit thick of a work for such a drive, still helped us push past the 2-hour mark.

I felt a need to keep it lighter, and skipped over Dylan for early Elton John. Fleetwood Mac would’ve been next but the lady at the lunch spot had the same idea, so the Zombies got moved up, which inspired Elliott Smith, a shared favorite.

The White Stripes proved to be “too garage-y,” or noisy, for delicate ears, and Radiohead proved too subtle for the highway, but mostly, it proved to be a successful attempt to keep two people content at the same time. Glenn Danzig may not be any happier now, but I am, and that’s all I ever wanted.

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly

Column #26: Don't know much about astronomy - and that's OK

As I left class for the final time last month, I was filled with mixed emotions. At 36 years old, I probably should have been leaving the class that I had been teaching. Instead, some “interesting” life choices along the way had left me playing catch up on the road to conventional adulthood.

My iPod shuffle landed on “A New Life” by the Marshall Tucker Band, and it fed my confusion. My new life – marriage, domesticity, etc. – had led me back to college to complete a degree, as I now had a future that I could believe in. As such, graduating didn’t mean that I would be moving away, or leaving anyone behind.

Though I had spent the past two years with a regular crew of fellow students all pursuing the same courses, it certainly wasn’t the college experience as seen in “Animal House”. Occasionally, I would even need to turn down invitations to “study” with my colleagues at the New Albanian Brewing Company because, at the moment, I had other responsibilities that my 22-year-old peers did not share. (At other times, however, such “studying” was unavoidable).

I had tasted the classic college life the first time around, and it didn’t agree with me then. At 18, I had no interest in alcohol, and I was more likely to make a friend in a bookstore than in a frat. A suburban upbringing made me hungry to explore a big city, which left less time for classes. I had little interest in subjects that I didn’t enjoy – math and science – and indulged in elective classes such as Italian cinema.

While I continue to argue that my work since – game show winner, pop culture journalist – has benefited from studying the works of Fellini, Rossellini and De Sica, it didn’t help me get closer to an undergrad degree. Part of returning to school at 34 meant accepting the harsh reality that I still had plenty of non-fun classes left to fulfill.

Our mayor’s office wants to get 55,000 more Louisvillians to earn their degree in the next decade. As I have now done so, you’re welcome, folks – only 54,999 left. No one asked me to write about this; in fact, part of why I am writing is to complain about how I would like to see our higher education system overhauled.

I have 30-something friends who have told me that they won’t go back just because they don’t want to make up requirements in subjects that don’t interest them or benefit them. I don’t disagree with them. To my understanding, the point of receiving a general college education about many unconnected subjects is that most 18-year-olds don’t yet know what they’re good at, or what they enjoy doing.

For those “non-traditional” students who return to college past, let’s say, 25, who know that we want to be a nurse or an IT expert, can someone please start a college that doesn’t require us to learn a foreign language? Does a 43-year-old who wants to teach history need to go back to learn more about science?

Are there adults who can’t buy groceries or pay their bills just because they didn’t learn enough math by the time they left high school? (The answer: no). If your job requires a working knowledge of higher math, then let’s hope you already had such knowledge before your boss hired you.

I realize that this is all about money. However, many more people might give lots more money to whomever can give them a degree that doesn’t require spending three years on miscellaneous banalities.

The person who cuts my hair went to hair cutting school at 18, and has enjoyed a fruitful career of cutting hair since graduation from that school. She knows little about Astronomy, and is doing fine.

My college Spanish professor learned more about speaking Spanish by summering in Argentina than she did from a textbook. She probably also couldn’t tell you much about Astronomy.

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly