I’m sure it happens to every generation. Their parents don’t understand – or won’t
understand – the things that they are “in to.”
So the kids get frustrated and rebel, embracing more holistically that
which the parents don’t understand. And
subsequently they promise to never be so out of touch with their children, but
they are anyway.
I was lucky. My parents
were fairly liberal. They never
questioned my or my siblings' music. They rarely
questioned our fashion sense. Our hair
was ours to style. Pretty much anything
to do with culture they let us have our own way. But then again, unlike my siblings, I was pretty slow to notice
anything cultural. I was so
entrenched in video games and comic books that I didn’t notice the culture or counter
culture all around me. I didn’t
care about my clothes. In seventh grade
my teacher teased me for wearing bell bottoms.
It was 1987. I didn’t even comb
my hair – no exaggeration – until my sophomore year. And I didn’t discover New Wave music until
1994; arguably ten years after the genre's halcyon days.
Still, I had the occasional parental bout and I had more than a few friends who clashed with their parents. So I promised I was going to be understanding. I was never going to be one of those parents
who said, “That music is too loud,” or “That movie made no sense,” or “Those
clothes are ridiculous.” I’ve done
pretty well so far.
So, long story short, my daughter has gotten into
K-Pop. In case you do not know, K-Pop is
an abbreviation for Korean Pop music. I’ve
been made to listen to at least three different bands. How many songs I could not guess. I have to admit that the dancing and the
music and singing are certainly professional.
It is all appealing to the eyes and ears.
But the lyrics. Ah
the lyrics.
