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I have an unusual relationship with music.
Unlike most people in my age group, I grew up almost exclusively with the Golden Oldies. In the 1980s and ’90s, music from the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s was what rocked my world. For this, I have to both blame and thank my mom.
My mom is averse to listening to any music that was made after, as she stresses, the very early ’70s. She always gave us the option of listening to other things…just not in her vicinity. And unfortunately for my knowledge of ’80s and ’90s musical pop culture, with my mom is the only time I ever remember listening to music growing up. (My dad wanted to make it clear, for the record, that this was not his doing whatsoever.)
So in a way, my musical education and exposure was stunted. As a child, I was never able to connect with people over current music. And even now, I have no memories of listening to the things my peers listened to back then. (As I often quip when trying to explain this to people, “I didn’t discover the ’80s until high school!” Truly, I didn’t know a single ’80s song until this millennium.)
Arrested Development
This musical stuntedness presents itself in various ways. I have no inclination to seek out new music. It isn’t that I never find new things I enjoy; I often do stumble onto new things by accident that I really like. And I’m not averse to it like my mom is. But I’m content with never finding anything new.
I rarely spend time listening to music. There is so much music, so many books, so many movies and TV shows out there for me to spend time on (none of which can be multitasked, frustratingly) that I will never in a million years get to all the media I want to experience. And when it comes to how I want to spend my time, music almost never wins. I always have it on in my car when I’m driving from place to place, and I play it to fall asleep at night, and that’s about it.
I almost never go to concerts, and most of those few I have been to were paid for by someone else who wanted a companion. I usually have an okay time at one, especially if the showmanship is good, but mostly I don’t really “get” going to concerts to hear things I can just listen to on a device.
Anhedonia
There are some people with a neurological disorder called musical anhedonia who are incapable of enjoying music. I don’t claim to have this, because I can enjoy music–I get those physical tingles people get from certain notes being hit just right. After a drink, I want to sing along to songs I like. I can move to a beat. (Not well, mind you, but I know the beat is there.) My parents gave me piano and trumpet lessons for many years that I am very grateful for, and I was superb at the trumpet. But I can relate to these people to an extent. When I’m at a concert wondering what I’m doing there. When I hear of someone spending an hour listening to an entire album in one sitting and doing nothing else. When I briefly tried to date a musician and just could not in any way relate to his passion or the way he understood the concerts we went to and realized it was a poor match and that I would stifle him. Other people feel excited by the magic of being at a concert, while I feel little different than being at a bar with music playing from the speakers in the background. Perhaps if there is a spectrum of musical anhedonia, I fall on it somewhere.
Love
But I am not writing all this to bash my mom for this cute quirk of hers that really hasn’t impeded my life in any significant way. Far from it. This post, and the playlist I’m sharing, are a love letter to my mom and the era of music she did give me–those Golden Oldies. Because I really love the Golden Oldies. When I have my Alexa wake me up in the morning, and most other times I ask her to play me something, these are still usually what I turn to.
I play a lot of trivia, and I’m always either really good or really bad at the music category, completely dependent on whether it’s from my mom’s era or later. If it was made after the very early ’70s, chances are, I can’t name it, have no idea who sings it, and quite possibly have never even heard it. But if it’s from before then, get out of my way and hand me that FriXion Clicker (my trivia writing utensil of choice)–I’ve got answers.
And although I still can’t really connect with my age group about most of the music they grew up with, I do have this now very unique and microscopic-level knowledge and appreciation of this earlier era that is unmatched by most anyone my age. I no longer resent this like I may have as a kid and instead think it’s pretty cool. And that’s something my mom gave me. I even encounter people a generation ahead of me who don’t know some of the songs I know. I’m sure it’s a large part of why some say I have an “old soul”.
Discovery
Back when Napster was a thing and I was discovering and downloading songs both new and old left and right, I apparently made the mistake of adding Fastball’s “Out of My Head” to a CD with a bunch of oldies on it. Because of this, a false memory wormed its way into my brain and I became absolutely convinced that this song itself was an oldie. I mean, so convinced that I didn’t even wonder about it or question it–it was seamless, as though this song had been there with me just as long as every other one I grew up with. I only made the shocking discovery a few years ago that it was an imposter, and I. Was. Shooketh. What else was I certain of that might possibly be a lie!? Does this song even sound like a ’60s song to you? Because I can’t personally unhear it now. As far as I’m concerned, Fastball went back in time and recorded this song in the past for me and me alone.
But this traumatic discovery led me on a fun journey. I started asking myself questions, like what it would take to make a modern song sound like it came from a time before. (Tom Hanks and Adam Schlesinger had this covered in That Thing You Do!, an absolute classic I highly recommend if you’ve never seen it, and my favorite Tom Hanks movie. If you’ve never seen the Director’s Cut, you’re going to want to–this is one of those where it adds so much to the story.) Perhaps there were other songs like those, made even more recently? And most importantly, if there were, could I give my mom the gift of new music she’d actually enjoy?
I don’t know the answer to that last one, but I have spent the last several weeks painstakingly putting together this playlist for her that I am calling Ruby Newbies. I dug around on Spotify, went through albums by nearly 100 artists, chose the songs that sounded the most convincing, and went the further step of checking the lyrics to be sure even the vibe of those matched the era and that there were no errant references to things like cell phones or historical events that hadn’t happened yet. Lastly, I attempted to arrange them roughly by decade, but left a lot of room for error there.
And now without further ado, here is my list of Ruby Newbies. I could easily see any of these being used in the background of a movie or TV series set in an alternate 20th century, to add a faint sense of unease or the suspicion that something just isn’t right.
If you enjoy this playlist, please let me know. I’d love to hear if you have any other artists I should add to the list! And for any time-travelers stopping by, you may also enjoy this playlist I made for Doctor Who fans.
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