Running errands with my kids in tow, I was listening to a local radio station when their identification said they play “classic alternative.” Now I’m not meaning to make something out of nothing (yes I am), but – WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN!
“Alternative” as a genre was so broadly based it needed to create a plethora of sub-categories otherwise you wouldn’t know what the hell anyone was talking about. You got shoegazing, grunge, jangle-pop, indie-rock, Britpop, Madchester, industrial, gothic rock, alt-country, adult alternative, and so many more I can’t even remember on the fly because the mere thought hurts my brain.
Sure, I know what the station was getting at… I’m fucking old, and so is that genre tag! Yesterdays ‘alternative,’ was the day before yesterdays ‘classic rock.’ They want me to feel welcomed and nostalgic when I hear Nirvana and say to my kids, “I saw them back in the day.”
“Really, they’re pretty cool, in an old guy kinda way!”
“Oh yeah! This old guy might not pay for your education, if you keep up with that ‘old guy’ crap.”
“Are you sure you should talk that way to an eleven year old dad?”
“When you’re old enough to attempt sarcasm, you’re old enough to hear me say crap brainiac! Now show some respect for your elders you young whippersnapper.”
“What is a whippersnapper?”
“I don’t know! I heard Bugs Bunny say it.”
Shit… where was I… memory is getting foggy with… never you mind… Frickin’ classic alternative”
So I listen to a station that wants to attract a younger demographic. A station that sees the 90’s as a place of flannel, woolly mammoths, sabre tooth tigers and some “classic tunes.”
Oh damn I am old.
Time to sell the electric guitars and get a walker I guess.
At least, I can keep my vinyl, “kids still think that stuff is cool… right?”