Friday, September 25, 2009


Right now I’m listening to Time to Die by the Dodos.  The past few weeks I’ve been pretty much submerged in the gorgeous musical landscapes of Finally We Are No One by Múm and the serpentine pop of Bitte Orca by the Dirty Projectors.  I point this out not to prove how sharp and contemporary my musical tastes are:  it’s actually the opposite.  I wouldn’t have heard of any of these bands if not for my son, Cody.  There was once a time when I prided myself on being up on the best new music out there—as both a musician and music critic, I had to be—but those days are long gone.  For more than a decade now, I’ve depended on Cody’s uncanny ability to take my stuck-in-the-past tastes and translate them to Now.  Back when he was a teenager—he’s a full-grown human now, editing comic books for Devil’s Due—Cody was the one who turned me on to Oasis and Radiohead and, over the years, he’s force-fed me some amazing music:  everything from Death Cab For Cutie (and their brilliant spin-off, the Postal Service) to Sigur Rós, The Album Leaf, Coldplay, Robert Rich—well, the list goes on and on.

There are many wonderful reasons for having children and “because they’ll keep me from being an old fart mired in musical nostalgia” clearly isn’t at the top of the list—but it’s up there.  Thanks, Cody.

©copyright 2009 J.M. DeMatteis

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