I don’t know when, exactly, it happened, but I have turned into my parents. Case in point:
I remember vividly in 1985, watching Live Aid (if you don’t know what Live Aid was you have no business reading this blog). I was not at the concert (I’m not that cool), but watching on the tube (when MTV was actually music television), and when Madonna came on, I went bat shit crazy. My father looked at me like I was an alien being, which, at 23, I was.
“What has she (Madonna; he didn’t even know her name) done? Has she invented a vaccine? Or produced anything…” he paused, but his pause implied: “Produced anything other than this crap music?”
I was horrified, and whined something like “But she moves me!!” as I continued dancing to “Holiday.”
Thirty years later, and when I see the Madonna of 2015, I think “What has she done? Has she helped society? Listen to this crap music!”
Now, to be fair, I believe Madonna is somewhat philanthropic and, therefore, helpful to society. But I also think her current music is crap. Because I liked the Madonna of 1985. The rougher, weightier Madonna of pop music. When I hear that, I become 23 again.