I've been listening to The Smiths lately. Somehow this came up in a conversation with a co-worker when we went out to lunch today, which triggered a childhood memory about a friend who was a few years older than me back when I was still in elementary school and our parents, his and mine, would throw parties for things like New Years or the Super Bowl.
While the adults were off drinking and doing things we had zero interest in, Matt would take me and his sister (who was my age) out to catch crayfish in the pond behind their house or blow up G.I. Joes with firecrackers. Sometimes he'd play music for us - more than what we'd hear on the radio or see Martha Quinn playing on MTV. I remember liking his cassette copy of Metallica's Ride the Lightning and harassing him to play "Trapped Under Ice" over and over again. Eventually, though, he started getting into the Cure. I protested.
"I hate this stuff," I'd say. "Play that 'ice' song again."
"Give it a few years," he'd reply. "Then you'll understand."
He was right. It took a few years more for me than him, but I eventually understood The Cure...and the Smiths. I've been listening to both lately. I have no idea if he listens to anything in prison, which is where he eventually ended up after robbing some restaurants at gunpoint. Such a strange batch of memories to recall over a plate of seafood and in a conversation with someone who doesn't really know who Morrissey is.
While the adults were off drinking and doing things we had zero interest in, Matt would take me and his sister (who was my age) out to catch crayfish in the pond behind their house or blow up G.I. Joes with firecrackers. Sometimes he'd play music for us - more than what we'd hear on the radio or see Martha Quinn playing on MTV. I remember liking his cassette copy of Metallica's Ride the Lightning and harassing him to play "Trapped Under Ice" over and over again. Eventually, though, he started getting into the Cure. I protested.
"I hate this stuff," I'd say. "Play that 'ice' song again."
"Give it a few years," he'd reply. "Then you'll understand."
He was right. It took a few years more for me than him, but I eventually understood The Cure...and the Smiths. I've been listening to both lately. I have no idea if he listens to anything in prison, which is where he eventually ended up after robbing some restaurants at gunpoint. Such a strange batch of memories to recall over a plate of seafood and in a conversation with someone who doesn't really know who Morrissey is.
: )
And maturity, as well as music, definitely require age to appreciate sometimes.