Idiot Wind

If you have read seven or more words from any of my previous 172 blogs, you’d probably have a pretty good idea that I love music.

I'm not totally sure where my love of music came from, but it has been with me forever.

I saw my first real concert in 1979.

It was Robert Palmer opening up for Heart.

Or was it The Babys opening up for Styx?

Either way, one of those was my first real concert, the other was second.

I guess if I said "I remember my first concert like it was yesterday," I'd be lying.

My love for music continued from there.

As a pudgy 12-year old Jewish kid, I learned all the words to Rapper's Delight.

It was beyond adorable.

If you were into West Coast Bar Mitzvah Rap.

In 11th grade, my English teacher introduced us to poetry.

He featured two poems from a great Jersey writer named Springsteen.

Bruce Springsteen.

The poems were titled Jungleland and Born to Run.

The words were cool, but when our teacher played the soundtrack that went with it, it became amazing.

In college, I was the lead singer in a U2 cover band.   We called ourselves, Me2.

Crazy college kids.

But even with all of that, one of my true downfalls in music is understanding what the hell a song is really about.

She-Bop by Cyndi Lauper.   No idea.

Little Red Corvette by Prince.  Must be about a fast car.

Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.  No idea.

I can remember falling in love with a great song by a great band, 10,000 Maniacs.

But even after listening to it 10,000 times, I could never figure out that "what's the matter here?" was about child abuse.

I can remember singing these words, like it was yesterday:

  If you don’t sit in your chair straight

  I’ll take this belt from along my waist

  And don’t you think that I won’t use it

My fingers were snapping and toes were tapping like it was a Dr. Seuss nursery rhyme.

Finally somebody clued me in.

Boy did I feel stupid.

I could give you some more examples of my lyrical lapses, but the hard drive on the internet is not big enough.

So I will fast forward to my latest duh moment.

Saturday night, with my wife and kids in town for a visit, I took the two older kids to their first broadway play.

My wife took our 7-year old home for a little R and R.

With a million and one choices on the board at the TKTS 50% off place, we zeroed in on "American Idiot."

That's the play taken from the music of the last two Green Day albums.

Even with all the profanity, the music is so good, I decided to introduce my kids to those CDs when they came out.

Those four-letter words were nothing different than what they hear at the breakfast table.

Father of the year, I am not.

Those records are among the best I've heard in years.

I've listened to those songs so many times, I  know all of the words.

Even if I have no clue what they mean.

I knew that there was a theme to the albums.

And I knew the theme had something to do with a love story.

And I knew that the music sounds amazing.

But I had no idea what the play was about.

I guess I should've known something was up when the ticket taker said "you are aware of the content, right?", as the three of us entered the theater.

Um, no.

But I am aware of how much these tickets were -- even at 50% off.

And we are going!

Within about one second of the curtain rising, I put my seat belt on and prayed that child services had the night off.

For the next 90 minutes the three of us watched a show about young men and women doing drugs, drinking alcohol and having sex.

Did I mention they were doing drugs?

I peaked over a few times to make sure my 13-year old daughter and 11-year old son were having fun.

Which they were.

After the final musical note of the night, I gingerly turned to my kids and said, “so, how'd you like it?”

Dramatic pause.

“I loved it,” they each said.

Ok, so far so good.

I figured they liked the music and I know they liked the show, but how about the story?

Well if this means anything, before I even asked, my son informed me that the play had a great message.

Don't do drugs!

Amen.

That was worth the price of admission.

Now if he could only explain to me the meaning of Bohemian Rhapsody.