That old style rock-n-roll ... from the '80s

I'll admit it - I love me some 80s music.

Now I ain't talking about those scrotum smokers Milli Vanilli, or teen hooker Debbie Gibson, or tax evader turned Jesus Freak in bad suits MC Hammer, I'm talking about the good shit like Depeche Mode and Echo and the Bunnymen and Human League. And don't forget Soft Cell, Oingo Boingo, The Smiths, U2-lite The Alarm, or finally, the penultiment of badly teased hair, synth guitars and melancholy morbidity, The Cure.

Too much from our friends a across the pond? Want something a little local? I pounded imaginery moshers when I would turn my bedroom cave into a pit when Dramarama came one, The Cult blasted out, any band with the word Dead leading the name - Dead Kennedys, Dead Milkmen - and those kids from New York, the Beastie Boys.

I can't get away from it either. My ol' man used to say the music I listen to in high school and college will be the tunes I listen to for life. I thought all the Oak Ridge Boys album he listened to scrambled his melon when he said that, I was going to evolve with music and be one of those old fogeys who likes everything.

Before I go on, I should admit that I was a music snob during this time. I couldn't tolerate metal, and pop music - I'm looking at you Paula Abdul, you corporate schill for "American Idol" - made my pubic hair ache. It was new wave, modern rock or punk or you could take your axe guitar and shove that sumbitch sideways up your poop chute. It wasn't until later on in college, after getting Metallica, Van Halen and Skid Row drilled into me like it was a form of Chinese water torture that I begin to appreciate other styles of music. Hell, by that time I even attended an Alabama concert ... willingly ... and enjoyed it. Hey, everyone needs a fiddle in the band.

That evolution stopped in the late '90s. Bands - actually, calling these groups bands is like calling white supremicists a social club with shaved heads - began sounding the same, from the melodies to the the vocals, the beat to the look. I can also pinpoint the time because, like the consumer slug I was back then, I bought up these albums (damn skippy, I still call them albums, even if I buy the tunes online. You can't beat new tricks into a dog) like they were the Beatles' newest albums. It started with Third Eye Blind, followed by Matchbox 20 and Blink 182. All three were radio friendly, translated they sold their soul to Axl Rose to make money and soak up a few minutes of fame. Now, they're all likely twirling home development signs in Hemet, California, hoping to lure some straight edge, reformed crack addict in to blow their drug dealing dough on a house that'll be reposed in a year. Don't believe me, I just came from Hemet this weekend, and I swear to Al Pacino I saw Rob Thomas spinning KB Homes arrows Saturday morning. What a mook.

That's what got me thinking about music. When the century turned, so did my music taste. Thanks to our Tech Geek friend who has every song known to man, including tribal shit from the Sumarians back at the dawn of mankind, music has become found a little lean-to shelter in my heart. Without help from her, I would never have heard of Ash, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (who I swear sounds like The Jesus and Mary Chain for you old new wavers/punk rockers out there), Elastica or Franz Ferdinand. Of course, she's also the same joker who put everything Fleetwood Mac ever did on my hard drive, so when I'm working in the morning (re: being a fantasy baseball dork by pouring over meaningless stats) with the randomizer going on the computer stereo, every fourth song I catch is Stevie Nicks whining about her shitty love life. Thank Al Pacino for one-button fast forward. If I hated a song 10 or 15 years ago, I'd have to hit fast forward on the tape machine and hope I don't pass up the song I wanted to hear.

But back to why I was thinking about music. Like I said, I was on a little road trip to the cow pie spot of California - Hemet - and was plugged into my iPod for 10 hours of drive time. In that time I realized how much I missed sitting back and listening to music. I caught Ash, and a Beastie Boys album I hadn't heard (To All the 5 Burroughs), and The Dandy Warhols (another Jesus and Mary Chain ripoff). It was all top notch shit, and reminded me of the late '80s and early '90s when I was really excited about a new song or band that I just caught on the radio.

So, for every Limp Bizkit, Lit, Nickleback and Train, there's decent stuff to hear. We just need to turn off the radio to listen for it.