Friday night Pretty Lady and I enjoyed an outdoor evening concert on the lawn of a wonderful city park in downtown Indianapolis. We were within two blocks of Victory Field, home of the Indianapolis Indians baseball team, AAA affiliate of the Pittsburgh Pirates. As the concert was in its encore presentation, the ball game ended, and it being a Friday night game, fireworks were going off just behind us. How cool is that? Very cool.
The concert was by the “The Dukes of September.” A rather strange name, given we were seeing the concert on an August evening. Of course, the “September” reference may have been assigned to celebrate the ageing stars of the show: Michael McDonald, Boz Skaggs, and Donald Fagan (one of the stars of, and originators of, the recording group known as “Steely Dan.”) All three solo stars were on stage for the entire two-hour show, backed by a great collection of horns, keyboards, bass guitar, and drums. Two female back-up singers had outstanding voices, and the guitarist was very, very good. Very good.
It was a good night to be outside, and it was a very good concert.
Several hours before time to leave home for the concert, I was telling a colleague about my plans for the evening. Her young son overheard our conversation and wanted to know if the artists headlining the concert had been famous. Not were famous. Had been famous.
The young man had never heard of Michael, Donald, or Boz. Try as I might, I could not conjure up even one of their songs that he knew. My 13-year old daughter, a few years older than my colleagues’ son, most likely would not have know the names of the were famous singers we went to enjoy that night. She might recognize a couple of their hit tunes from the oldies radio station I listen to…but maybe not.
Fame is fleeting.
Time flies.
The music I enjoy is not the music my parents enjoyed; and its not the music my daughter enjoys. There are other generational differences, of course, but music is a particularly obvious bone of contention. Guess I shouldn't be so surprised by this.
However, there is a glimmer of hope.
The very next night, Pretty Lady and I were in Brown County for a concert headlined by Carrie Newcomer. The opening act was a young lady name Cari Ray, a darn good songwriter and pretty fair singer. I purchased one of Carrie's CDs and two of Cari's. When my daughter was in the car with me on Sunday, she was forced to listen to one of Cari's CDs. She liked it!
I had gained "cool" status with my kid!
Life is good.
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