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I am SO old

Did you happen to watch the Grammy awards last night?

We watched some of it, mostly because Bruce Springsteen was rumored to be kicking off the show.  He did, as he and the E Street Band (with a large string section, no less) presented a rousing version of the new song "We Take Care of Our Own" from his forthcoming "Wrecking Ball" album (I still refuse to refer to these things as CDs).

Paul McCartney performed, Tony Bennett sang a duet with Carrie Underwood (someone had to REALLY be thinking hard to come up with that pairing) and there was a tribute to ailing Glen Campbell in which Glen joined in.

Other than that, unfortunately, most of the performers who sang or were otherwise identified as presenters or nominees were largely unknown to me.  I know who Katy Perry is.  Adele is astoundingly talented as a vocalist. And I know that Lady Gaga was "born this way," to borrow a phrase.

To wit:  I was in New Orleans last week, out with a group of work associates, and we wound up at an interesting place with a very eclectic jukebox.  Each of us contributed to feeding it, and my selections were a mixture of the Beatles, Dean Martin, Elton John, Al Green, Neil Young, Talking Heads and a few others.  Only upon hearing Patsy Cline or the Eagles did I perk up.  Otherwise, I was totally lost.  By the way, the highlight of our trip to this spot was my acquaintance with the house cat, a grey boy named Mr. Wu.  Handsome little guy, fun to watch him beg for chicken fingers from one of the employees.

This is something I knew would happen, as I've inadvertently become my father where modern music is concerned.  I have no regrets about this, as it's generationally inevitable (of what my kids like, I like some REM and some Dave Matthews), but it hadn't really hit me that it was this bad.

So I'm an old fart, I admit it freely, and will listen to any suggestions of "new" music performers I might like.  Not that you're likely to convince me, of course.


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