One of the pleasures of middle age is the utter freedom you feel when you realize it’s no longer necessary to care about pop music. This emotion takes several forms; at its worst you become a peevish coot suffused with suspicion: These youngsters are wearing their hats in a style that fills me with unease. But at its best, you realize that there’s more to life than pop music. You need not worry whether the sludgy thrash-rock ground out by yowling scowlers is post-punkabilly infused with a neo-hippie sensibility, or the other way around. If something new comes along that you like, fine. But don’t think it makes you hip. You’re not hip. Hip, like Trix, is for kids.
James Lileks, “Turning into an old crunker”, Star-Tribune, 2005-05-29.
