I started writing this post on May 4th.
May 4th has become a day to celebrate Star Wars.
It is also the birthday of one of my best friends. He is a drummer. We played in a band together for almost fifteen years. He is turning 39. I will be the same age this fall. Another decade is coming to an end. Statistically, we have lived almost half of our lives.
May the Fourth.
Star Wars.
The carefree days of playing music.
Turning 40.
These concepts have all come together in a way that has me thinking about my generation: the X-ennials, or the Star Wars Generation.
Our micro-generation was born between 1977 and 1983, when the original Star Wars trilogy was released. We were teenagers when the trilogy was re-released in theatres in 1997. As Xennials, our youth was a mix of analog and digital. We built treehouses and websites.
From the perspective of history, we were too young to understand the significance of the fall of the Berlin Wall, but we have some fuzzy memories of our parents talking about how something important had happened.
Too young to be in Gen X. Too old to be in Gen Y.
I do understand the critiques of generational theory. Certainly, while I was growing up, I was not conscious that I was between generations. I did feel a sense of belatedness, a feeling that I had missed out on something. It started when I first heard Nirvana–or, rather, when I first heard about Nirvana.
I was only ten when Kurt Cobain died. Like the Berlin Wall, I understood that something significant had happened. Unlike the Berlin Wall, I was a little older and could seek out some information on my own as to why this man’s death was significant.
So, some time later, I asked an older kid on the bus: “why was he a big deal?” That kid tossed his headphones to me and said:
“Listen.”
You would think that would have been the first time I heard Smells Like Teen Spirit.
It wasn’t.
Rather, my introduction to Nirvana was
Unplugged in New York.
And so it went.
My first Pearl Jam CD? Vitalogy.
My REM did not have Bill Berry.
My Metallica had [*gasp*] short hair.
As I worked my way backwards, back to Nevermind, Ten, Document and The Black Album, I began to develop a sense that I missed out on a special era.
This sense of belatedness stayed with me, even when I was listening to Kid A and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.
I would like to think that I am getting a little wiser. I realise now that my sense of belatedness was not a real thing. Rather, it was just how I felt. A signal that, as much as I liked “my music”, alternative rock from the late 80s and early 90s spoke to me in a more meaningful way than anything else.
The idea that you should just “like what you like” is a simple one. Yet I have found it difficult to live by that adage. I don’t know the reason behind this. But I do know that I felt some degree of pressure to like certain songs and bands even when I knew that I did not.
Lately, however, I have found that I am finally strong enough (as silly as that sounds) to fully and completely “like what I like” and it feels great. I take this as a sign that I am, indeed, getting older.
Some examples.
Eric Dolphy’s Out to Lunch. A staple of the jazz cannon. Not my cup of tea.
The free jazz of Cecil Taylor. No thanks. Give me the “B-Team” of Blue Note, like Tina Brooks or Sonny Clark.
The Arctic Monkeys. Sorry friends; I never thought much of them. Those accolades from yours truly? All fake.
The Strokes. Time for me to confess: I never got the hype–even if I bought the CD.
Maybe this is because of the fact that, simply put, there is more on my mind now, especially, as a husband and father, and, therefore, what music I like and what music I think is good is no longer elevated to the same degree as it was when I was a teenager. I know that may sound silly, but I imagine that, like many of you here, what music I liked and what music I thought was good was an integral–if not the integral–component of my identity while I was growing up.
My typical ice-breaker in almost any social situation: what music do you like to listen to?
I also believe that other generations may have gone through the same thing: as you enter middle-age, you no longer feel the need to be a standard-bearer of your music. You realise it is futile to do so because your music is “old” music.
How did I come across that realisation?
Again: Kurt Cobain.
A few months ago, I snapped a photo of my son watching Unplugged in New York on our television. I caught a perfect picture: my two-year son looking up at the TV at the precise moment when we get a close-up of Kurt.
You can picture it: the strands of blond hair; his eyes closed; blue light in the background; just a little bit of the collar on that worn cardigan showing at the bottom of the screen. My son looked up at it all with curiosity. I was both a proud fan of Nirvana and a proud father.
I sent that picture to everyone. One of my second cousins replied: “Who is that on the screen?”
She’s Gen-Z. Born in 2000. The daughter of one of my Gen-X cousins (who was born in the late 1960s.)
My Gen-Z second cousins made me realise that, in 2022, Kurt Cobain would be dead longer than he had been alive. That there was more time between Nevermind and today than Nevermind and Abbey Road.
My music was now, officially, old music.
And if that wasn’t enough, how about all the jazz music from the 50s and 60s that I love? To my Gen-Z cousin that must all seem as ancient as the Old Testament.
Funny enough, I keep going backwards when I return to that music that gave me a sense of belatedness.
Faith No More now gives me a headache. But I can still listen to Fugazi.
I can’t remember the last time I listened to Sonic Youth. But it seems I have The Replacements on repeat.
All of this is happening as time keeps moving forward.
This month, Kurt Cobain’s iconic Fender Jaguar was sold at an auction. Time has transformed wood and strings into a revered relic from a bygone era.
Obi Wan Kenobi, first introduced to us as the seasoned, wise veteran (in the movies), will now be (via streaming), a broken middle-aged man, in hiding but still ready for action.
Time, that inexplicable force, keeps doing its thing.
And for our micro generation–or should I say, “our little group”–the Force remains strong with us.
tnocs.com contributing author minor major 7th
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Nicely done, mm7! I share your sense of the in-between, though I’m in a different gap: Born in 1963, I’m technically a Baby Boomer, but I have no firsthand memory of JFK or the Beatles (as an active group); Vietnam was on my radar screen only at war’s end, etc. As far as the “What do you like to listen to?” question, I’ll readily acknowledge “Band on the Run,” “Jet,” “Silly Love Songs” and “Let ‘Em In” triggering more nostalgia for me than any of the Beatles canon.
Thank you, cstolliver.
I remember a post back at the mothership, where I discussed something similar within the Baby Boomer generation.
My father-in-law was born in 1949.
My mother in 1961.
Both Boomers. But, whereas the former could have gone to Woodstock, the later looks back fondly on new wave.
My father and mother-in-law were both born in 1955 and love their Abba and disco.
The Beatles seem to inspire various permutations of nostalgia. For example, as an X-ennial, I now look back with nostalgia on the release of “Free as a Bird.” I did not understand the significance of the release, but remember there being a huge buzz about it and generally liking the song. I still put it on from time to time and smile.
I recently read Max Hastings’ book on Vietnam. One of the takeaways from that book was how the conception of the war changed, from a sense of a duty to attrition to protest to failure, as different segments of the Boomers came of age.
About two months ago, I helped my avatar move to Washington State. We were taking a break from getting his Hammond organ into the Matson truck. His wife’s co-worker was in a band. Really nice guy. We were going back and forth about our favorite music, and then we hit a roadblock. I was expressing my sadness over the unexpected death of Mark Lanegan. He didn’t know Lanegan was. No problem. I explained that he was the lead singer of Screaming Trees. Didn’t ring a bell either. A week later, I bought him a copy of “Ballad of the Broken Seas”, calmly explaining that the woman on the cover art used to sing in an oldies band called Belle and Sebastian.
What made me nearly veer my car off Kamehameha Highway was hearing “Love Shack” on the oldies station. I wanted to cry.
Screaming Trees are another example of my sense of belatedness.
My first Screaming Trees CD? Dust.
It was only much later that I found Sweet Oblivion and, of course, “Nearly Lost You.”
When I read Mark Lanegan’s autobiography, I was also hit with a sense that a great era had passed me by.
Fellow Xennial here. Certainly exhibit a weird mixture of Gen X/Millennial sentiments, though I typically lean one way or the other depending on the topic.
I was a rabid gatekeeper of “cool” starting in high school, and it was at that point that I started divorcing from most contemporary music in favor of the underground legends. So even then I didn’t feel much like a standard bearer of my generation.
It was in college that my purism broke down. The cooling of my hormonal development was likely part of it, but it was then that I also became friends with different kinds of people, who embraced music for different reasons. For instance, I went to hip hop clubs, and I could hear how perfect a Lil Jon song can sound when it booms down into a dance floor and everyone’s going nuts.
I also befriended Japanese students during my time in Tokyo, and some of the popular music they were into stuck with me. This shift away from gatekeeping in fact made me more receptive to current music, as I would simply embrace what sounded good to me for whatever reason.
I just turned 41, and only recently have I noticed a detachment of sorts from contemporary pop music. But in this case it’s more to do with being sick of certain performance and production styles that have been popular for about 10 years now…I liked them when they came out, but I want something new! Crooning indie girl pop and cough syrup trap were both nice for a while, but let’s move on. Yet I’m happier than ever with all the great new music that’s not on the charts.
One thing that really makes me feel old is that I miss missing things. I miss when certain movies were rare, or unavailable for long periods of time, and then when they finally came out, it felt like a really special moment. Star Wars is a great example of this, but another one is comic book adaptations. Batman in 1989 felt like a big event. Now it’s not a question of “will there be a new Batman?” or “when will a new Batman come out?” It’s more like “Okay, who is it this time?” Even when the movie is decent, it’s a whole lot less special than it could be. Such is effect of information saturation.
I guess “I’m getting too old for this sort of thing…”
Good to know that you are a member of our “little group”, Phylum.
You articulate a lot of other emotions that I feel, especially the anticipation for new things. How about the special moment of a VHS release together with the euphoria of mom and dad taking you to Blockbuster on a Friday night?! Some fellow X-ennials believe life never got better than that. 🙂
I miss Tower Records.
Me too! I worked there on and off for 6 six years, and they closed when I was in grad school.
You can still go to Tower in Japan, but it’s just not the same…
The music I loved nobody else loved. I thought it was a regional thing. The great revelation from posting on Stereogum was that my favorite band was unpopular from coast to coast, and forgotten.
The Connells.
I only know one song by The Connells; ’74-75′. It was a big hit around Europe. A true one hit wonder her. I loved it, which makes for a 100% banger rate in my books.
Not in my neck of the woods, of course.
Addendum
Too young to be a hippie, too old to be a punk. I slipped into the latter anyway.
Mustangs and Jaguars are similar so they’re easy to confuse, and I think he both. Whatever you can find at the pawn shop, y’know? I seem to remember him with an Univox Hi-Flyer, too.
Thanks Virigindog. To add to the confusion, I think the Kurt Cobtain signature model that Fender released a few years ago was marketed as a “Jag-Stang.”
That’s right! Nearly forgot about that, but I just found this site. Turns out it has a fan base.
My honor, mM7. Thank you for the kind words, and for some great things to listen to last night during the layout session.
Great post mm, you’re not the only one who feels that way. On May 8th was my 43 birthday, and I don’t want to think about age things, but it is inevitable to realize that there is a gap between some of my coworkers and I talking about music tastes.
Like a month and a half ago, two of them and I were on the highway in the company’s car and they were switching radio stations playing music that I don’t really like (sorry, but the current Mexican Regional it’s not my thing). At some point one of them put an oldies station and they were playing “Sending All My Love” by Linear, and sort of started dancing along. I told them that the song was from early 90’s and said “you weren’t even born yet” (Jesus Christ!). I couldn’t help feeling a little bit old
Happy belated Edith.
Your comment reminded me of your recommendation from another post that I need to get around to crooner-era Jose Jose. If only all of this “adulting” would stop getting in the way.
For my money, mM7th, Sonic Youth still holds up pretty well, and they’re featured in my rotation occasionally. If someone put a gun to my head and forced me to choose my favorite band of all time, Sonic Youth would probably get the nod. (Sans lethal threat, I’m notoriously squishy about superlatives.)
However Nirvana — the band for whom I am exactly at the right age to get (Nevermind came out my senior year of high school) — I loved them at the time but almost never listen to them any more. Kurt seems more like a symbol than a musician. Not that he’s bad or irrelevant, but whatever he had to say was crucial in 1992-1994, but has far less resonance today.
For the avoidance of doubt, I still admire and respect Sonic Youth. For whatever reason, I just don’t go back and listen to them. Maybe this is a sign that I carve out some time to re-visit Sister and Daydream Nation–and even A Thousand Leaves.
After all, there was a time when SY inspired me to mess around with alternate tunings and use a screwdriver as a slide. The results were…not good. But fun nonetheless.
Certainly Nirvana was part of the last gasp of huge radio rock, and they perfectly fit the Gen X stereotype of self-conscious slackers, but I think the songs themselves have aged really well.
Very different from Sonic Youth, though, who for most of their career were trying to turn rock music on its head, then use the upturned skull as a canvas for some lovely guitar paintings. Nirvana had some of those deconstructionist impulses, sometimes, but largely I think they wanted to revitalize rock music rather than take it apart. It’s Punk John Lennon: conflicted, self-aware, sometimes a bit arty, but mostly earnest, accessible music for the people.
Excellent piece to ponder, mm7. And I like how you frame everything in Star Wars Years. MrDutch and I just had the discussion over the weekend after watching the first 2 episodes of Obi-Wan, since we are both squarely of the original trilogy generation and hold those up as THE shittake of all movies – do folks 15 years younger than us have the same affinity for the Middle trilogy, that THOSE 3 are the end all of all movies? What about kids in their teens now, how do they regard the recent trilogy? There’s probably kids who think the Star Wars universe begins and ends with Grogu (aka Baby Yoda).
It is fascinating to reflect how our priorities have changed as we’ve aged, and how life experiences drive what those priorities are over time.
Great stuff mm7. Its human nature to categorise everything including ourselves as a way of explaining the world. I don’t know if its a case that generational categories weren’t really a thing here in the UK but I don’t think I was even aware I’m Gen X until I was well into my 30. The phrase baby boomer has always struck me as an American term that has never really been applied here. It does seem to have become more of a thing in the last decade.
Having a child has definitely required a change in priorities. Music is still massively important but I’ve not been to a festival since my daughter was born. The biggest cultural change for me is that films fell by the wayside. Finding 2 hours to watch something undisturbed became difficult whereas at least with music, podcasts and books they fit better into the parental routine. Now that she’s 10 I have the same lack of recognition you found with your cousins daughter for cultural touchstones of my past. My daughter knows that music is a big thing for me but has chosen the path of being incredibly scathing about my tastes. She does it with a sense of humour though, mostly. I could either wilt in the face of her sarcasm or get on board and laugh it off. I’ve gone with the latter.
She came home from school a few weeks ago saying that the teacher had been playing them various songs which they then discussed the meaning of. One of them was Blackbird by The Beatles. She said she was embarrassed as she was the only one in her class to know who The Beatles are, all thanks to me. Its kind of mindblowing when their music has always been part of my life to hear that 10 year olds now have no idea who they are. But then there’s the realisation that with the timescales involved it would have been the equivalent of a teacher telling 10 year old me about a singer from the 1930s. I’m pretty sure my reaction would have been no idea what you’re talking about or why its relevant. What goes around comes around. Same experiences, just the names change.
I guess “Yesterday” wasn’t a hit there, then? Or maybe it was too old of a movie for kids? (Probably the latter.)
Yesterday did ok here. Despite the prescence of Ed Sheeran it was definitely too old for my kid, if we’d even explained the premise of the film she’d have probably fallen asleep in a bored protest.
Also, mm: I felt the same way about the Strokes, but decided to give their second album a chance after hearing Anthony Fantano praise it as better than their debut.
I like it! It has the basic sound of Is This It, but more fiery and more fun. They actually play like something is at stake, and Julian is on fire throughout. It won’t change your life or anything, but it may have been one of the very last gasps of quasi-successful rock music being worth a damn.
Lots of thoughts on this, mm7. When I turned 39, it was 1990 ( let that sink in for awhile). Costner ruled the screen, Houston ruled the charts and Disney had yet to make their big comeback.
But as a “okay, Boomer”, growing up, I always felt more closer to the generation that grew up during WW2 than my own. Probably that’s because I had access to my father’s (and aunt’s) yearbooks early on and early TV was filled with the hijinks of Abbott and Costello and Hope and Crosby from the 40’s.
My father had a rather large collection of classical records, mostly European and Russian, and though he rarely played them, I would spend afternoons looking through them and reading the notes.
For those of you from the East Coast, I believe the longest running radio program was the Sunday broadcast was the live from the New York Philharmonic that played all the classical greats where I learned the difference from the grand sound of an orchestra to the more singular sound of a band.
I always remember thinking that one day I would catch up to the sound of my youth but it always seemed one step ahead.
Motown became the Beach Boys, Beatles became the Beach Boys, the English Invasion became the Beatles, Psychedelia became the BI, I always seemed to be one step behind. Then the 70’s hit, specifically, Disco, and I found my home at last.
As someone who has spanned the decades, I find myself at a place pf peace and I let the new generations enjoy their music of the moment, knowing that several years from now they will be replaced by new sound but, hopefully, I will still be around to remind them about where it all started.
I’m in my late 40s and that “Who is that on the screen?” directed at Kurt Cobain has an older layer to it: I remember watching someone younger than me listening to David Bowie singing “The Man Who Sold the World” and wondering why Bowie “ripped off” a Nirvana song. Circle of life.