80s: I miss you!
Do you ever think about how music in the 80s, 90s was uniquely good, so much that you still listen to decades later, and it still hits the spot? Back in the day if you wanted your music on the air, it had to have “the IT factor.” Well, most of them… There were no shortcuts like today to make yourself popular. Granted, you may have had to sign “sellout” papers that most of us wouldn’t, I hope.
The creative market is getting flooded with AI, a sucker punch to people who have spent countless hours developing, editing, writing, pouring out emotions… probably reliving some they’d rather forget in order to invoke emotion, transcend time or just make you dance… Tell me you can listen to Rob Base and sit still? Not many new artists can still do that these days. I still remember the reason my hearing may be suffering, not because I’m old, never that, of course… I blame my brother, who wouldn’t? Maybe his subwoofer also, he stuffed that thing in the trunk with the back seats down for more vibes of course and off to private school we went with Digital Underground, Tone Loc and 2 Live Crew. I’m sure my Mom would have been so thankful if she knew she had paid tuition to shelter me from bad influences like this. 😂 It was a time when this generation loved all things that felt loudly free, expressive, commanding… regardless of our natural temperament. Can I give him credit for my love of Gospel music? The contrast yet similarity of influence? The heart and soul, that funky, alive vibe, that get-up-and-dance-for-life vibe, is not pausing for you. If you’re going to do anything, do it all the way, that deep quenching river of life freedom in praise that I. just. love.
Isn’t that funny, Gospel from Rap? I learned to love the rhythm and the rhyme, didn’t everyone in the 90s? It was something that took over every culture, whether you were white or black. You LOVED MJ and you sang Milli Vanilli and when Vanilla Ice came on you danced like a white boy and sang at the top of your lungs Ice Ice Baby, crammed in the back of your friend’s pickup truck with 12 other teens. Even in the church, it was the holy rollers with a side of 2 Legit to Quit. We were living the 80s version of TikTok, yellow dresses, flirting with the boys at the show, hoping he’d Bust A Move.
Side note: where did all that testosterone go?
Did the men of the 80s have so much of it that they started putting extra fluoride in the water to create passive frogs? Ribbit. Ask. The. Girl. Out. For God’s Sake. Where did a lot of things go? Do you remember older people just telling you stories at random and life was slow enough to listen? It’s the slow and steady people are craving, the history of wisdom, the charm of yesteryear … the cute old man sitting at a cafe with a long tale that captures imaginations and he’s sharp as a whistle. They are fading and what do we have left to cultivate? Let the kids be bored, let them build character in the slowness of creativity because I want my grandkids to meet those whippersnappers in a small café who have lived a full life, with a story to tell. All the resumes in the world couldn’t replace the true art of living and loving well.
I remember visiting one of my Dad’s friends as a teenager — man, did he have story after story of my Dad and his friends doing some daredevil stunts. Maybe they thought they were training for Hollywood but I’m pretty sure they were busy living a life beyond status, just living the time of their lives. To this day, he still makes me nervous with his daredevil heart but his heart lights up a room with his steadfast love. I love that about him.
What would life look like if we intentionally created more bored children, outwardly thoughtful and freedom to roam… what kind of stories would they be able to tell little kids when they’re old? What if we took away instead of always giving? We wait for nothing, instant gratification… how are they going to learn to value? Be loyal? The cost of losing? The cost of not getting things back? I want to say I’d love for Betsy to tell me her story, but then I’d be late for the fair and the lines would be long. I’d miss something, I’d know it. To want to sit and listen to strangers and have nowhere else to go… what does that look like? Would they talk to me or my kids more than three minutes? I think we are getting a little sick of insincerity. Parents are ditching their Netflix, buying VHS tapes, CDs and giving kids an 80s childhood again. People want experiences, authenticity… I think we’ve all been waiting for it. I know I have, I don’t think I ever stopped. I find myself lingering a little longer, inviting conversations and trying to be myself out loud, not only in my head.
It takes courage to say what you really think, to be intentional, even with a busy life, it has to start somewhere, doesn’t it?