Saturday, February 28, 2009

...And Your Momma Don't Rock 'n Roll

So before my Mom went off to serve her annual tour of duty as snowbird first-class in Florida's National Yard, I gave her a copy of my new record to take along. Now it's always odd when I give something like this to my folks; a) it's not very R 'n R, b) it makes me feel like I'm 8 again presenting that lumpy clay ashtray made in art class and c) I know they probably won't get it, leading to eventual emotional distress. Yet knowing all this, I still hand over my latest creations. Weird. Like no matter how old you get, you're still looking for parental approval even if it's via the deepest caverns of your subconscious.

Fast-forward. Weeks go by and...nothing. Radio silence. Now my Mom's a talker, a "people person", she's never at a loss for words; we speak often. I'm pretty sure Ma Bell installed their whole fiber network off the revenue from my Mother's phone bills back in the 70's. I mean put her in a room with Kim Jong-il and an hour later they'll gleefully be sharing hairspray tips. Anyway, one day we're speaking and finally I just come out with it - "So, did you ever listen to the album?" Nervous pause. My Mom tells me yes, but she's been waiting to talk to me about it because there's a bit of a problem. You see the album's great, my best yet, but unfortunately unlike my other records, she can't hear any of the words on this one. My step-dad (in his 80s) thinks there must be something technically wrong with the disc or the way the album was put together; all the music is much louder than my voice. My Mom (78) concurs but before they laid the bad news on me they wanted to run it by my Aunt (in her 60s) to see what she thought
. Now I'm pretty sure my Aunt never did a stint at The Hit Factory but I resist the urge to ask (ya never know, the 80's were pretty crazy, yo). Turns out my Aunt "played the record on her computer" then passed along her take. Seems she can understand some of the words but not all; she agrees something's amiss.

Now I'd like to tell you I took the high-road and maintained my composure. I'd like to say I calmly reminded myself that the people feeding me this info watch "The O'Reilly Factor" on the flat-screen at my place with the volume at 75 (Literally. I don't think I've ever taken her above 20). I'd like to say all these things but I can't... I lost it.

I suppose the two years worth of work and money invested in this album have taken their toll
. I know the mixes are fine. I guess there's just something about that ability your parents have to (unintentionally) get under your skin and play upon your insecurities that can somehow rattle the most stalwart of emotional cages.

Now back off townsfolk, put down your torches, ok? I know I should have been cooler but you'll be relieved to hear all's well on the domestic front. Like most good, totally dysfunctional Mother and son relationships, my Mom and I have successfully come to disavow the existence of any such altercation.

What have I learned? Well, going forward I've promised myself that I'll be a little more patient with the folks. Anything less than that is just a character flaw on my part.
I've also promised myself that I'm going to work on the self-doubt thing. I'm an adult now, just because my Mom says something, that doesn't mean it's so. Matter of fact I'm gonna put all of this into practice just as soon as I get back from the studio...

...I'm going in to check my mixes (sigh).


Editor's Note - Apparently these crazy interwebs reach Florida and all parties mentioned above have now read this silly missive. As a life-long Democrat my Aunt would like to go on record as saying she does NOT watch "The O'Reilly Factor". My Mom would like to go on record as saying this Blog reminds her of Erma Bombeck and I would like to go on record as saying - awesome.

1 comment:

  1. Ditto. My mom, also in her 70s, told me my last record had a preponderance of 4 kHz and called Greg Calbi "a hack."