A group called “LMFAO” performed the grand finale in last night’s American Music Awards.

How do I know this?  I watched it.

Why would I watch a three-hour long awards show featuring the brand of pop music embodied by former American Idol contestants, trendy hip hop wannabe’s, more techno-garble than a IBM power plant, and, basically, everything prepubescent?  Simple.  Because my son loves it.  Somehow – unbeknownst to me – an unwelcome alien entity must have invaded my son’s room (or something) and taught him the lyrics of all of these headache inducing songs that previously existed in an alternate reality from mine.

His favorite group is the aforementioned LMFAO.  I checked out their cd at Barnes & Noble.  Two guys with their

LMFAO - Cool Dudes

faces pressed against a girl’s bare midriff.  It was the only cd I found with “Parental Warning – Explicit Lyrics” stamped on the cover.  They feature songs called “Party Anthem” and “Too Sexy For You”.  Monday evening I became aware that my son knows all the lyrics.

At dinner last night he began singing a phrase, “I have passion in my pants”.  Here’s the conversation that followed:

“Palmer, what are you saying?”
“I’ve got passion in my pants.” (unabashedly)
“Why are you saying that?”
“It’s a song I like.”
“I really don’t want you going around saying that…it’s inappropiate.”
“Why?  What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.  Eat your spinach.”

I’m processing how to navigate (and feel) about this latest development of…growing up.

The thing is – I wanted so much more for my boy.  When he was a baby in the crib, I put him to sleep to Johnny Cash and The Cowboy Junkies.  I made a point of raising him on Buddy Holly and Wilco.  I remember him finding one of my Van Halen cd’s when he was four years old (Van Halen I for those who care) and performing a dance number for his mother and I to the entire cd.  Van Halen wasn’t where I wanted him to end up…but it was an acceptable starting point for a 4-year-old.  I was parenting well…

What happened?

Me and Palmer were driving the other day and I decided to listen to his favorite radio station with him (don’t ask what station – it’s mentally blocked out).  I tried to find common ground.

“Palmer, this all sounds like music made for dancing.  It has a strong dance beat – meant to be played at dance clubs.”
“Yeah.”
“You know – when I was your age a lot of popular groups made similar music.  It wasn’t as techno because…well…they didn’t have the technology.  But it was still made with a similar beat and made to be played at dance clubs.  They called it disco.”
“I’ve heard of that.”

Then I remembered – I remembered just how hard it is at his age not to like what everyone else likes.  I remembered that I owned Andy Gibb and the Bee Gee’s crap when I was close to my boy’s age.  One of my 45′s was A Taste of Honey’s Boogie Oogie Oogie.  And it wasn’t musical doom.  It just takes a while to discover yourself…to live into who you will eventually become.  No need to panic.

The conversation I started during that ride was a conversation about not needing to like what everyone else likes.  Feeling free to choose what’s good over what is popular.  I said, “You can listen to whatever you want to and I’m cool with that.  All I want for you is to listen to what you like and not just follow the crowd.”

He nodded politely and looked out the window.

I have more hope for my daughter.  Last year she wrote in class that her favorite movie was “All Elvis Movies” and she recently asked if I could paint a mural of the Beatles on her bedroom wall.  Daddy’s Little Girl.

 

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