Cruising back to Listowel from Fordwich in the Vibe the other weekend, I had the windows down and the radio turned up.
This is how I typically roll in my vessel, during the summer months anyway; for one it was a warm, sunny day and it just feels good to have the windows down and the tunes loud. It was also out of necessity, as I was a few days away from getting a wheel bearing replaced and wanted the radio to help drown out the all-encompassing whirring sound coming from the car’s front end. The windows down are also out of necessity – the Vibe hasn’t had air conditioning in a solid five years.
I was listening to a classic rock station and a Metallica track from the mid-90s came on. Always pleased to hear one of my favourite bands come on the airways (the Vibe is also pre-Bluetooth capability, so I’m either at the mercy of what the radio decides to play or my decaying, scratched collection of CDs), I twisted the volume dial a little further. And then a thought occurred to me. Exactly when did the music I grew up listening to become classic rock?
So I dug into this matter a little further. Classic rock’s updated definition is essentially a radio format generated from album-oriented music of the genre from the mid-1960s… up through the mid-1990s. I guess every few years or so, that timeline compass needle gets pushed a little further east. It’ll be hard to comprehend the early 2000s as classic rock when its time comes, although most sane adults know that minus a few exceptions, there hasn’t been an abundance of quality rock created beyond 2005 that should someday be designated as ‘classic.’
That’s my old facetiousness coming into play there, if you didn’t catch it. But as I grappled with the apparent reality that my primary music era of choice was now defined in fact as classic – really a fancy word for ‘old’ – what did that say for me? Am I now classic as well?
The short answer is yes, most certainly. I have all the defining characteristics of someone who is not young, anyway. All of those reading in the senior demographic will probably laugh at me, but I’m very close to 40, I’m generally tired 80 per cent of the day, and I seem to wake up with a new physical ailment every morning.
My car is most certainly a classic, at least in my eyes. She’s very close to 20, has the speed and handling of a soap box derby racer, and seems to develop a new mechanical ailment every day. I guess we were made for each other.
I reckon my dog could also be considered a classic. Logan is pushing 90 (in dog years, of course), was once the fastest hound in the pack but is now the slowest, but still has the appetite of a canine in its teenage years. His zeal for feed is emphasized by the endless nuggets I’m constantly disposing of in our backyard.
Delving further into the definition, of course the three above examples could hardly be considered to be classic from an objective standpoint. Just me having some fun at my own expense. A classic instance of Dan being ridiculous, as it were.
Going by the traditional description of the adjective, classic can be defined as “judged over a period of time to be of the highest quality and outstanding if its kind.” So in that sense, and in an extremely biased sense of subjectivity, both the Vibe and Logan can be considered classics. As for me, only time will tell if I fit the bill. There’s still plenty of work to be done on that front.
I suppose I have to become accustomed to the fact that the music, pop culture and pretty much everything else to which I hold sentimental sway from the days of yore are no longer modern and instead fall into the classic category. To quote the Rolling Stones – as I have previously as a band that has certainly been of the classic rock variety for at least the past 40 years – “What a drag it is getting old…”
Thanks for reading and I’ll see you back here in a fortnight.
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This is a bi-weekly opinion column; for question or comment contact Dan McNee at dmcnee@midwesternnewspapers.com.
