Music is a massive deal in our house. Music fits the mood. Music fills the room. Music is the backdrop. Sometimes, music becomes the words we wish we could say – or wish we never said. I think it’s more the frequency of the sounds in various types of music alongside the poetry. It’s the thing that sums it all up for us as humans. It helps this cluster of neurodivergent minds work through typical and otherworldly realities of growing up and living life.
When I was a young mother, I played classical music from each era for my young kids. I didn’t need my kids to watch Little Einsteins – we lived it. I nerded out using my vocal performance background to help their little minds explore and grow. Each of them responded similarly and differently. I have my expressionistic music lover, my performer, and my internal processor, with a needed personal soundtrack. They love it all in their own way. They all love the poetry, culture, and prose of sound in music. No matter the genre – from classical to Broadway – the love of music is like another member of our home.
So, I think I’m superbly frustrated that now there are musical debates that are more like social massacres. Indulge my hyperbole of words and emotions while I make my point. Now that I have middle schoolers and teenagers, I am amazed at how conversations regarding music have changed. As a family, we celebrate our differences and preferences, but these conversations are quite a spectacle.
Enter Exhibit A:
Natalie Jane
“No way!”
“Yes, there is a version of this song that existed before this one. It’s the same song but arranged and adapted for this generation.” I folded my arms, satisfied with my explanation.
“Why does that matter? The only version on the table is the Natalie Lane version of ‘Crazy.’ Why did you bring that other guy up?” Full face contortion as these words were said.
“Because Ceelo Green was a part of creating it and released the original version! That matters! Natalie couldn’t make her version without it.” My hands are splayed in the air while my eyebrows are unwaveringly raised.
The room fell silent for a moment and I felt I may have swayed the odds in my favor.
“What kind of name is SEE-LOW?” The exaggeration of the stage name made my hair stand on end.
In that moment, I sympathized with my uncles when they would glide around me in an antiquated dance move and “school me” on “good music” from their time. I respect them and the music of their time so much more. And now it’s my turn to bellow forgotten truths.
Behind my struggle with seeing all my middle school music debuts from 30 years ago become TikTok trends (grr), there is a bit of pride. Music that is true to express the dynamics of human nature and need, while taking a stance regarding life sociologically, is a gift. Every era and season has art that echoes its statement of exploration and even change. You’re probably reading this thinking of a song of a specific time with pride or even anger. That’s the range of what music does.
The Roaring ‘20s, the Swingin’ ‘50s, the Posh ‘60s, and the Groovy ‘70s, all birthed during women’s fight against injustice and for reform, African-American civil rights, making strides after hundreds of years of domestic oppression, and the expansive commencement and fallout of the Vietnam War. The current ge
That is, until we find ourselves sitting on the couch chatting with the upcoming generation. We find our life and global stories embedded in the art we argue about so easily.
So, just as I may not agree with every stance that all art makes, I can listen and hear the perspectives of its creator and the times in which they lived. But I will say that I’m just not arguing gravity-like about whether or not Aretha Franklin and Billie Eilish could be in the same league. Let’s not and say we did.
Diamone Ukegbu is a local mom, musician and writer. She loves stories of joy, hope and adventure - like living 25 years into the future past Y2K.
