I was fortunate when the mainstream adopted R&B/Hip-hop as its taste in music. In the past, the presence was there, and for me, I loved 1997 for it, but it is better served as accent pieces than this full-blown All-You-Can-Stomach buffet. And I don't think it is just because I'm drawing ever so nearer to 40; I began tuning out the mainstream into my mid-20s. This is nothing new of course. No doubt there were listeners drunk on the regalia of the 80s who braced against Grunge, that alt movement that wasn't so alt.

I know—I know this sounds like some "get off my lawn" curmudgeon rhetoric, but if you recall the opening line to this journal...I WAS FORTUNATE. The shift and my subsequent departure led to exploration. I listen to so much music today, yet I cannot name one top 40 song of this year or the last. I know "Shake It Off," but that FOUR years ago. I recognize Drake's name, but I wouldn't recognize his material; I'm a sleep-infused, portly, orange tabby soaking in the sunshine.

With music, along with many, many other things, life before the wide-scale adoption of the Internet in comparison to life thereafter...well, we are no longer under the corporate machinations that once informed us as to what is good. It's still there of course if you're still jacked in. But back then, the hand of a friend (a thanks to my wrestling teammate in '95 for Weezer's blue album) and radio airplay were all we had...play a song enough times and eventually its well-received: MmmBop...Mamba No 5 (yes, add those to the "(Not So My) Destination Getaway" soundtrack. Today, I listen to music entities that release their own content—yes, their cover art could use a buddy, a graphic artist buddy. If it wasn't for the Internet, I wouldn't have known about the synthwave / retrowave / outrun movement. I'd likely just regale in the rock of old and grimace at what passes as Country today, not unlike my father before me.