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When I went off to university in the fall of 1986, I ditched my preppy leather tie rugby pants levis 501s persona and decided to dress like a headbanger. I grew my hair down to my shoulders, wore a flannel checked Mac shirt underneath my jean jacket and listened to my Sony Walkman loud enough to drown out all the people around me who I looked on with disdain anyway, my grinding guitars Metallica Husker Du soundtrack blaring in my ears. Today the hair is short, the clothes are more polite, the shoes more proper, the glasses more modern but now it's an iPod and the music is still loud and noisy. Many of my colleagues plug in to tune out the workplace conversations and get their jobs done to their own personal soundtrack. Thanks to digitization, music has worked its way into every part of our lives. We can go anywhere and do anything with it chiming away. Movies, TV shows and video games would be hopelessly bland without music. Public spaces, like malls and hotels, would seem empty and vacuous without some happy melodies. What's the first thing that happens when you're put on hold? The music starts to play. What's the first thing you hear at a major sporting event? The pounding, adrenaline-boosting rhythms. What's your guiltiest pleasure? No, it's not chocolate because you'll admit that to anyone. Chances are it's a song you know you shouldn't like but you just can't help yourself. For my buddy Chris in Toronto, freshly turned 40 and a music snob who taught me how to be one, it's Rihanna's Shut Up and Drive, a sinful slice of pop drivel, as meaningful as fast food, as sweet and nutritious as a Twinkie. Shoot, I can fill one of the iPod shuffles with 15 hours of guilty pleasure music, from the 70s (Abba, disco), the 80s (Duran Duran, Ratt, Honeymoon Suite, Asia), the 90s (I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys and Robyn's Show Me Love) and now (the new Britney song, Gimme More, is a pretty catchy little number). Aren't I too old to like A Perfect Circle and Linkin Park and Kanye West? I put on Bruce Springsteen and Neil Young when I want to feel more mature. Music has become so imbedded into our lives that it's become a joke. Who didn't laugh when the penguins sang Boogie Wonderland in Happy Feet or when Ewan McGregor sang Your Song in Moulin Rouge? The constant assault on our ears has helped trivialize music. Last week, I heard an instrumental solo piano version of All Out of Love by Air Supply. Last month, I heard a CD with baby lullaby versions of Tool songs. Music has become as ubiquitous and disposable as candy bars and cell phones. That is sad, considering most of us have such a deep, emotional connection to music - songs we fell in love, made love and got married to, songs that pulled us out of our depression, songs that made us weep, songs that inspired us, songs that made us move and feel alive. When I think of love, I think of Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes. When I think of sadness, I think of Street Spirit by Radiohead. Hurt by Johnny Cash makes me want to cry. Facades by Philip Glass makes me still. Anything by Nine Inch Nails makes me want to suffer. I'm safe with Massive Attack's Protection. I'm clear and cold with Over and Out by Foo Fighters. You know your songs and what they mean to --- I'm sorry. Were you saying something? I had my iPod on and didn't hear a thing.
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