Indie-ignorant and proud: What it looks like to love the musical eras of yesteryear
I have no idea what new music is out there right now. I have the freakin’ pen-name “Hipstercrite,” and I have no idea what people my age are listening to.
I am no hipster, I’m an old lady.
Cherishing my Time-Life 1950’s compilations on tape is what I do best. Loving Meatloaf is what I do even better. I still long for the days when I would wistfully stare at a poster of a shirtless Elton John (don’t ask). I’d probably stare at a poster of a shirtless Meatloaf and enjoy that too. I still have my Stevie Nicks costumes.
I even called Callin’ Oates; when my boyfriend got sick of hearing Daryl Hall crooning from my speaker phone, I was reduced to getting my fix of H2O in the car.
It’s Free Week in Austin, and you know what I’m doing right now instead of catching awesome local acts? Writing this post about how I’m indie ignorant.
I’d love to be in the know on what music is hot right now, but there is not enough time in the day to catch up! I haven’t been actively listening to new music since 1989. I was six years-old then and thought George Michael was the most hetero man that ever existed.
There is over two decades of music I’ve missed out on and I don’t know where to begin. (On a side note about current music: How have the radio DJs in Austin not been reduced to a zombie-like state after all this Adele playing? Seriously, like, don’t you DJs even find it comical how often you play her music?)
What I’ve always listened to is oldies.
Oh man, anyone born up to 1965 will be super pissed for me calling 70s and 80s music “oldies.”