Battle of the Bands

Blog soundtrack:



I have a 17-year-old son; naturally, we differ in a lot of areas like politics, clothes, sleeping habits, and especially music. When Nathan was younger and impressionable, I tried to gently push some of my music his way; of course, my thinking was flawed, because Nathan was never impressionable. He had always had a mind of his own; I only had to remember back to seventh grade when he proudly announced he was the only one in his grade to vote for the Libertarian candidate in the school's mock election.

About a year ago, Nathan started making CDs of “his” music for the car. He and I would often squabble about whose CD we were going to listen to when he was driving the car with his learner’s permit. Since Nathan got his driver’s license, he started making more CDs to listen to (read "blast at such a high volume that I could hear him coming home a mile down the street") while driving on his own in Big Red (a.k.a, his Dad’s 1995 red Suburban).

Somehow this 2” by 2” laminated card that said "driver's license," given to Nathan by the state of Massachusetts, had made him King of his Driving Domain even if his name was not on the automobile title of said domain. One day, I went to drive Nathan to his Dad’s house. He quickly said, “I’ll drive,” and as he climbed into the driver’s seat he proclaimed, “The person who drives gets to listen to his music!”

I got in the passenger’s seat and said, “But, but…” Nathan said again to me as if I had suddenly sprouted two hearing aids in each ear, “The person who drives get to listen to his music, Mom!” I was waiting for him to say, “Period,” after that, but he’s not a fan of punctuation or writing in general, never mind the verbal punctuation.

So, I sat there waiting for the “noise.” Some of it wasn’t too bad, especially when a song came on that I actually knew. I was pleasantly surprised by a Journey song one day, but within 5 minutes, the pleasant memories were replaced by audio anxiety when Metallica began to shriek.

These were difficult days, because I knew then that I was old. I had flashbacks from 1981 when I arrived home from Brandeis armed with music by the Pretenders and the B52s. I remember my Mom having a listen and then rolling her eyes; God, if I hadn’t already, I had truly become my mother when it came to music with Nathan.

Somewhere along the way, Nathan took pity on me. When we happened to have to drive together, he would skip songs he knew I wouldn’t like. He’d stop at a particular song and say, “You might like this, Mom.”

I know the teen years are years when you really have to reach out to your children. What struck me was that it seemed that Nathan was trying to reach out to me with his music. I didn’t say it, but I thought, “How sweet,” because I didn’t want Nathan to think that I was thinking that he might actually be trying to find common ground with his mother of all people.

Then, it happened. I actually loved two of “his” songs that he had played for me; in fact, I was fond of blasting them at high volume in my car. One night, I walked into his room and proudly said, “Nathan, I’ve got two of your songs on my iPod.”

Of course, he looked at me like I was crazy. While common ground could be reached, you should never verbalize it to your teen. He must have been feeling generous that night in matters of the Mom. He asked, “Which ones?”

I told him and then said that I was on my way to liking a third song. He asked which one. I began to hum it, and he said, “Oh, that’s 1901 by Phoenix.”

Anyway, I put the song on my iPod last week. I then said to Nathan, when he wasn’t “bouncing” (leaving) or sleeping, “I’ve got that song on my iPod now.” He mumbled something, and I knew he was thrilled and was probably going to tell all his friends how cool his Mom was; okay, so I could dream about that and that he might let me be his Facebook friend again!

Last night, I downloaded the whole album by Phoenix. I was bopping around the house listening to them. And, I thought how proud must Nathan be of his old Mom, the woman unloading the dishwasher to his music; again, I could dream!

I even went so far as to see if they were touring. As it turns out, they were going to be at Agganis arena on October 19th. So, I sent a text to Nathan that asked, “Phoenix playing BU on 10/18. Want to go? Or is it not cool going with your Mom? Or do you want me to get tix, so you can go with a friend?”

I knew I overstepped the common ground. It was good Nathan and I had common ground. But a second after I pressed "Send," I had the feeling that “going with your Mom” was putting me too close to Nathan on the same common ground.

Nathan was surprised that tickets were still available. He asked how much they were, and I told him. Then Nathan placed Lake Chaubunagungamaug between us, which for me roughly translated to “You listen to music on your side, I’ll listen to music on my side, and we won’t attend concerts together.”

Nathan said, “I’d rather go with friends.” There was a sad smiley face after that. I don’t know if he was sad because he felt like he was hurting my feelings or sad because he really wanted to go with his friends.

No matter, I took it like a Mom and said, “I will get a date and go.” I put a smiley face after that. True to 17-year-old form, Nathan responded with “Ewww.”

I told him that if he wanted to go I would help him get tickets. I guess I always knew that Nathan wasn’t going to respond with, “Oh, I’d love to go to a cool concert with my Mom instead of my much cooler and unrelated-to-me friends.” Hey, you can blame me for trying to spend whatever time I could with him!

In another year, he’ll be off to college. I’ve only felt old three times in the last few years; they were when Nathan became a freshman in high school, when he went to the prom, and now knowing he is a senior in high school. Anyway, I will keep trying to work my way into his life, which I seem to be slowly dropping out of, but for now, I am happy with our common ground, even if it is only in the car and every now and then. ♥