Miley Cyrus on the Radio?!!

It has been a few weeks now since a friend of mine invited me to the Spurs/Sonics game in San Antonio near the end of the regular season. It was one of those college moments when one could drop everything and go do something. Although the night was quite enjoyable and exactly the escape that I needed from a night deep in the books, I was reminded of something as we traveled on Interstate 10 to and from the game; I really hate top 40 radio...

I used to listen to it, I think we all did, but thank God I don't waste my time with that crap anymore. I mean my God, Miley Cyrus on the radio!? I mean I know there are those God awful Radio Disney stations out there that make musical mincemeat out of every genre under the sun. (why Bowling for Soup puts up with that I don't know; other than that, they seem to have most of their screws tightened upstairs) It was that new single she has out "See you again" and it sounds just like Brittney. What are these execs thinking? Is this some pathetic and tragic attempt to grow with her fans? What the youth of today is subjected to today makes me sick; please do something parents, you're just pouring gasoline on it right now.

This was all before the recent Vanity Fair shoot fiasco. I've seen this train wreck before. Watch as the endless flow of exploited young beauties goes by into a slowly degrading lifestyle and takes thousands of obsessed and clueless fans with them. A generation of scandal ridden, media whores. Pisses me off...

It was bad enough when she was topping the the charts with her dumpster pop music with after school special lyrics about being true to yourself. She was the face to one of the million Disney channel shows with their grade appropriate antics and mind-numbing, blow-hole acting; God how I despise that channel... Her concerts would cause families to take out second mortgages and sell their own grandparents just to see a glommed up tween lip sync to a prep pop band.


That was all tolerable, she bopped around in her little mickey ears stage and I made sure not to stray far from the History Channel and Sports Center. But now she and her handlers are making a jump to mainstream and the new look Miley with her hipper beats, heavy high school subjects, and more promiscuous undertones is making a claim to America's next full time sensation. Talk about a double life-style... Ahh look, little Miley is growing up to be such a beautiful woman. Did I say woman? I meant skank. I know I'm being harsh but I've seen the trend. I really hope she doesn't follow in the footsteps of those unmentioned tabloid divas and I'm desperately hopping her Dad is better than that.

Anyway back to modern radio in all its glory. During a 45 minute trip to downtown San Antonio I must of heard the musings of Miley about 3 times. Which brings me to point number 1 why I've long since abandoned top 40 radio, they've developed these dreaded 10 song rotations that make any song worse. I remember listening to KISS FM years ago when Bobby Bones was an afternoon host, the station played hip-hop and rock/alternative, and the turn of the century punk rock surge was still chugging along. It was the time when I first got into music and Switchfoot's "Meant to Live" was the first song I would wait patiently for. Times were good. As I waited, I'd pick up everything else and before I knew it I was into Jimmy Eat World, Sum 41, and Blink 182.

Some songs I really liked, but I was in musical fan infancy so most of it was over what I like to call "repetition induced collective hits," which conveniently can be simplified to "RICH." You know those songs that are stuck on that 10 song rotation and although you may really not care for it when they are first released, the repetition eventually causes your brain to like it; you start singing along to it, you buy it on iTunes, and now it's stuck in your cerebellum. Now you'll immediately start humming to it 5 years from now when it shows up on the throwback stations.

There's nothing wrong with RICH songs. More than anything they allow us as music fans to find some commonality and create a base from which the "experience of music" can commence. Those songs that your friends always go to on your iPod because it's the only thing they recognize and you kind of roll your eyes and think "come on, get to the good stuff..." Those would be RICH's. "Yeah" by Usher, "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers, and "Beverly Hills" by Weezer... All RICH songs for me. The radio repetition and sense that everyone else liked them were enough for me to pick them up. I'll still sing along to them and enjoy the little elements of each that feed my musical adorations, but when I'm alone and shuffle mode brings them up, I quickly reach for the skip button. "I've got better stuff than that..."

RICH songs can change from person to person. Some people may genuinely like "Mr. Brightside" and I'm cool with that, it just doesn't do much for me personally. I should say that there is an intensity to RICH songs; a scale on which songs can be placed in between complete personal meaning and repetitive, collective meaning. These labels aren't absolute; you'd have to personally like a song at least marginally for you to listen to it more than once or twice. But my point is that everyone has a few songs that they listen to mostly because everyone else does. Those in musical fan infancy live off RICH songs, they're a quick inside pass to the happening world of entertainment and it's almost necessary for eventual maturity. They "like" a song, but they really can't articulate why. Odds are, they're still young fans and you're dealing with RICH's.

It's only when you start developing your preferences and moving away from RICH heavy sources do you become a mature music consumer who can express their own responses to the many forms of music and enjoy a piece for its many intricate facets. I've moved on from those rock songs I liked when I was 15 because there's not much meaning behind it, while my younger brother still plays them every time he gets his hands on my iPod; he's still young musically. Some people have a hard time progressing. They go through the telltale teenage rebellion phase and latch on to the punk rockers, the hip hoppers, the gangster rappers, or the country crooners and then get stuck there. They can never offer up an explanation for their fascination beyond such vague statements as "you can rock to it!" "I love the beat, that's all," or "I'm from the country so why not." Is that really it? Or are you just attaching yourself to mainstream outlets of counter-culturism or adhering to a pathetic stereotype?


This whole trend is very similar to modern roadblocks to overall maturity. In fact it probably coincides with today's plethora of spoiled teens and twenty somethings who are desperately chasing the "perks" of youth and the all powerful pop crowd. Preference is all relative as long as you're a part of the in-crowd. Top 40 feeds off this desire to belong; it's 24 hour RICH radio, that's all...

About the mid part of the decade, the pop music winds (or record exec promotions) began to change. The punk rock phase of the late 90's was dying out and a new craze was sweeping the airwaves, hip hop and rap. I tried to weather the storm for a time, keep my ears tuned for the occasional rock balled while enduring the constant stream of thug music. I didn't mind some of it, a few of the hip hop and R&B tracks were okay to listen to, but they were all thoroughly RICH, I wasn't going to spend money on them. The whole radio experience was becoming very annoying very quickly; I would listen for a 2 hour period and hear the same piece of crap song three times.

And the content was awful, back then I was a little too young to catch the majority of the lyrics but as I was cruising down I 10 just a few weeks ago, I was smacked with the same debauchery as I was years ago. Back when I gave top 40 a chance...

How enlightening these "artists" were. Apparently "shawty wanna thug... shawty wanna hump... I like to touch ya lovely lady lumps" and "she ain never had a love like mine." That's nice, I seem to remember a lot of songs that promoted the respect of women and emphasized genuine love. "I wanna make love in this club," "while you sliding down the pole, no panties, no shirt," and "den superman dat hoe." This is some good stuff... Why did I ever stop listening to this stuff..? In the past I've tried to respect the hip hop and rap genres. I don't care for them, but that doesn't mean that they're deplorable... and then I hear the latest lyrics...

If you like it, fine. We'll call it free expression and I'll let you shimmy right on into the gutter. But I will not tolerate this crap coming out of my speakers. That's why I ultimately gave up top 40 cold turkey. At that time I turned the dial to country music stations and I've yet to look back.

Country is a very interesting genre because so much of the population professes to absolutely hate it. And yet, it's such a broad genre that if you really go through it, pretty much everyone likes some form of it, they're just not likely to admit that it is country. There is some content that rivals what I have mentioned above; divorce, adultery, alcoholism, and (the worst of all) line dancing. I can't stand it, but I don't throw out the whole genre because of it. The country music stations are just like top 40, they'll play pop country and crap I really don't care for. So don't think that I'm some country bumpkin racking up every song that is played, sometimes I can't stand it too. However, the country stations play more of what I like than any other station and when a classic Alan Jackson or Alabama tune comes on; I can't help but remember why I love it.

At this point I'll give you a little insight as to what I like about music, it's the sound more than anything. Sometimes the lyrics are nice or the artist has a good voice, but for me, the sound makes or breaks the song. Often times the lyrics or vocals can really add to the sound and really affix another dimension to the intricacies of what I'm hearing; bands like Switchfoot and Angels and Airwaves do an incredible job at that. When it comes to country music, I absolutely love the fiddle and steel guitar. It is such a beautiful combination that shapes the sound of the song and I adore a good whining melody. That's just what I like, and it's the same for all my other inclinations.

The electric guitar is such a versatile tool and I love how some bands are able to unleash the potential of sound between voice and instrument. This has all been part of my maturation of love for music. When once, I huddled around my handful of CD's and scoffed at anything not familiar, I'm now opening up to more ranges of music and enjoying finding my own likes instead of being force fed today's top songs by the promotion based nationwide radio corporations. The age of music radio and its strangle hold on the media is dyeing, the tools of the internet and online stores are giving more power to the populace as they can more easily broaden their musical scope. I've largely stopped listening to the radio for music, there are just so many online outlets and my iPod is just so much more fulfilling. I'm actively looking for new sounds instead of sitting there just taking the pop onslaught.

This first year of college has been great for me and music. I've discovered so many new artists and my collection is, more and more, becoming my own. So many of those immature alternative bands that I loved when I was younger have sort of grown up with me. Linkin Park, Sum 41, Jimmy Eat World and the offspring of Blink 182, Angels and Airwaves, have all released albums that have those deeper tones and, not to mention, really great sound. (Have I mentioned how much I love Angels and Airwaves? It's becoming an obsession) New country artists like Cory Morrow, Charlie Robison, Donovan Chapman, and Eric Church while learning to love Kieth Urban, Brooks & Dunn, Rodney Atkins, Brad Paisley, Josh Turner, and Dierks Bentley even more. New rock discoveries like We The Kings, OneRepublic, 30 Seconds to Mars, Boys Like Girls, Cartel, and Anberlin while rekindling older loves like Yellowcard, New Found Glory, and Bowling for Soup. My hard drive is really filling up, but I still have a long way to go.

Anyway, that was quite a statement on music... And I haven't even touched my love for movie scores and soundtracks. I'll let it be for now. I've done enough yelling at society and spilling my gut. Talk back to me if you're out there.

Christmas Behind Bars

The grass was that lovely Texas winter gray, a long, bleak strip of ground leading from the empty highway to the concrete complex. The occasional colorful marker or arranged stone symbol reminded one of the institution that operated such a place, the State of Texas. Not surprisingly, the parking lot contained only a smattering of vehicles. Who in their right minds would want to spend such a warm day in such a cold place? I was quietly escorted through the heavy doors into the processing area where a guard asked for my license and unlocked the holding bay. Any attempted subtlety in moving through the complex was impossible. The cumbersome bars swung quickly and sent a reverberating thud through the halls as the thick metal collided. The intercom prompted my continued escort across a small outdoor courtyard and into the central unit. The halls were utterly silent except for the occasional footsteps of guards dispassionately passing me through the main hall. However, as we turned the corner, a sound not commonly associated with imprisonment entered my ears. The deep and joyous voices of a men's choir echoed from the prison chapel. As I entered, the lively eyes a hundred men in dull lime colored jackets immediately turned to welcome the newcomer into their merry makeshift celebration. One would think that day would be especially dismal for those enclosed and separated from family and home, but no, it was a Christmas morning just like any other.

For the sake of small talk, most all of us attempt to break the silence of reacquaintance upon returning from the Christmas break by questioning others as to how they entertained themselves during the holidays. I wondered what their reaction would be once I assuredly replied that I had spent Christmas morning in prison.

This year, my father began working with a prison program that focuses on ministering to inmates of local state prisons. The length of sentences ranges from 6 months to 3 years and this course selects from a highly competitive field of inmates for a almost constant program of positive resocialization and spiritual immersion. (fancy words for a prison based ministry) It was something entirely new for my dad, but through our conversations over the semester, it seemed as if it was something that engaged him and kept him active in "the greater work." Because of this, I was more than obliged to accompany him to a Christmas morning service at the unit and meet the men that had kept him so busy.

It was an amusing thing to be getting up a 6 on Christmas morning; I hadn't done that since I was maybe 8 years old. For most of my teenaged years I was the sibling who refused to get out of bed and was accused by all the younger tots of prolonging their wonderful tree-side memories. Now look who's returning the favor...

We were a little late to the service, but none of that mattered to the fellow attendees. We were showered with numerous smiles, waves of the hand, and verbal, welcoming proclamations. Apparently, my father was quite the celebrity. The makeshift choir sung many of that standard hymns of the season, the chief pastor gave a short sermon, and a former convict got up and shared his path to prison and the grace of God that freed him from the greater prison of sin. But perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of the morning was the meal shared after the service.

With a table full of every breakfast pastry known to man and a chapel full of hungry men who were rarely exposed to such modern day delicacies, it wasn't surprising that the provided napkins were loaded high with the "less than traditional" goodies. I made the rounds about the room as everyone wanted a quick word with the instructor's son. Where I went to school and what I was studying came up often; there was a consensus that if I weren't playing basketball, I should be.

It became apparent that I was talked about a lot in class, maybe because I'm college and entering that "prime of youth," I'm not sure. I can only guess that it provided my dad with another ally of conversation. And it certainly sounded like the many topics reached all ranges of... propriety. Maybe you catch my drift, but they're issues that come up frequently, so why not address them? These guys may have been spiritually young and still fighting to conform to starkly different values, but it was hard to resist their charisma.

As we began to leave, I noticed that flatness of our rear tire and so a necessary maintenance session soon ensued in the largely empty prison parking lot. I couldn't complain about the company; the family band who had provided some entertainment made sure to lend their assistance and share a quick visit. Through all if it I couldn't help but chuckle inside; this was certainly a unique Christmas, and I rather liked it.

We soon got a call from my younger brother who was fed up with waiting on our morning escapades and wanted to get to his unwrapping; it's was too bad he wasn't having the fun we were. It has been a few Christmases since I really cared about gifts that much, or at least for those weeks leading up to big day; that seemed to have left by around mid-high school. I still try to put together some kind of list, but that's mostly to get everyone off my back as I stumble through my wants. I have so few needs. This Christmas only confirmed that even more. I went through those few years of full on rebellion and disdain for all that is modern day Christmas, but now, all that's behind me. I don't mind playing along with the traditions because I get a sense of meaning from something that is deeper.

This last Christmas has been an example to me of how much my family has changed, or maybe how much I have changed; perhaps it's a little of both. I think we all as adolescents have to go through those awkward years, when those infamous family meetings or activities utterly disgust us and the prospect of getting along with siblings is a lost cause. Those rates of maturity never matched up and though none of us were willing to admit it, we all had some serious growing up to do. I've always gotten along with my oldest sister, but those two youngest fist throwers? You can forget us ever engaging in intelligent conversation...

Maybe it's that we need some distance and a different point of view, or maybe those young ones freak out once big brother leaves the nest and are compelled to step up and fill the roles? Again, maybe a little of both, but for the first time in my memory I enjoy my entire family's company and would have no problem spending the entire day with them. That maturity level that tortuously lagged behind for my entire life at home is starting to catch up and I welcome the company.

I heard so many college "acquaintances" who hated their Christmas break, and it's because of this that I thank God continuously for giving me a family that enjoys itself and for giving me a humbler perspective and a chance to see what's really important this last Christmas. (that sounded like a Hallmark card, bleh) This feeling might wear over a longer period of time, we'll have to see what summer brings; it's only a month away.