I'm Not Too Old to Rock - You're Too Young to Understand

I've been a rock and roll fan for 25 years, since I was first riveted by a blistering Hendix solo. Over the ensuing years I've run so far away with a Flock of Seagulls, gone out on a Wire with U2, indulged in some Californication, and Raged Against the Machine. And I have a lot of context, too. Over the decades, I've immersed myself in ska, reggie, hardcore, emo, tecno, hip-hop, reggae, bluegrass, classical, new wave, blues, grunge, progressive rock and even disco. In short, you might say I've been around. But I digress. I'm not just in love with rock, I'm pissed.

What's really grinding my gears? I'm getting the sense that youngun's in their post-college years think I'm an old fart who couldn't possibly understand what's cool, cutting edge and worth supporting in today's rock music scene. Take the conversation I had today with a group of mid-20s editors that work with me at a publishing company. In talking with them today, I brought up my fondness for Muse, a shatteringly brilliant band whose music I've recently come to admire. I got a blank look (and veiled resentment, as though I was peeking behind a forbidden door). Just to see whether I was imagining things, I tossed out mentions of Yellowcard -- another new fave -- Velvet Revolver and Saliva, three bands whose power-guitar riffs and primal energy give me a tremendous kick. I got an awkward pause in the conversation, again, avoiding eye contact, a bit of embarassment.

Now, the acts I mentioned aren't obscure indie bands -- all have major record deals, and Muse, my special favorite, is currently on a US/European tour -- so nobody could accuse me of namedropping to prove that I was all cool and and that. Still, my gut feeling was that I was tiptoeing into culturally sensitive territory just by talking these bands up. And it gave me a headache. OK, I live in the suburbs, have two children and work in a white collar job, but I'm not too white, suburban or maternal to rock on.