Stitcher Fast

 

     "It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me," I sang to a neighbor across the street Monday morning, setting down the hose I was using to water my vanhoutte spirea and doing a choppy little dance move with my arms. 
     "How did you know that?" she replied, startling me in turn. 

      How did I know?
      "I exist in the world!" I objected. 
      To provide urgently needed context, a) the opening line is from Taylor Swift's hit song "Anti-Hero" and b) the neighbor had gone to Detroit over the weekend with two  other ladies from the block and one very lucky elementary school girl, to catch the Swift show there at Ford Field. My foray into song was an attempt to acknowledge her adventure.
      For a moment, I thought that her surprise was because I'm old. How could an old person know a currently popular song? And there is truth to that. Working out, I listen to music, and it occurred to me that all my favorite songs are 45 years old. That was kinda depressing.

     Although in truth, I'm only a few years older than she, though not the sort to travel hundreds of miles to take in the hottest teen sensation.
     I do try to keep up. I've listened to Lizzo — bash, joyful, juicy, fun. I've made a point of hitting the "Browse" function on Apple Music and discovered lots of songs that are good to exercise to and bear repeated listening. "Tick Tick Boom" by Sage the Gemini and "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven. "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers and "Float On" by Modest Mouse.
    As for Taylor Swift, it isn't as if the songs speak to my condition, though I admire the humor of the "Shake It Off" video, plus of course her pulchritude. Maybe because she first came to my awareness when Kanye West grabbed the microphone away from Swift at the 2009 MTV Music Awards, but there was always a pall of victimhood about her — her songs always seem addressed to the haters and fakers she refers to in "Shake It Off." I find myself wishing someone would share with her former Sun-Times City Editor Don Hayner's excellent advice: "Don't let them live in your head rent free."
      But we live in an age when obvious things sometimes shouldn't be remarked upon — that's why I used "pulchritude" instead of "beauty" — depending on who is doing the remarking.  I was reminded of that when a man about my age remarked on how Madonna had disfigured herself with plastic surgery and was set upon on social media as a sexist and a swine. Okay then. I haven't studied Swift's oeuvre, but I'm hoping her gigantic concert success this year is restorative for the young woman, who seems a genuinely nice person, constantly surprising fans by sending them presents and popping behind them on street corners. The video clips from the Soldier Field concert made me wish, well, not quite that I were there, but that I had been there (echoing something Dr. Johnson quipped about the Giant's Causeway — and thanks to John O'Rourke for tracking it down: "Worth seeing, yes; but not worth going to see.")

     Okay, I think we've had enough of this subject for today. Let's wrap up.

     As if seeing my face fall and immediately understanding the cause, my neighbor quickly explained that she was surprised I knew of the song because I am a man. No argument there.

     "There were probably 10 men in the entire audience," she said, recounting one in a t-shirt that read, "It's me, hi, I'm the dad, it's me."

      That's a shame. While I don't think I'd ever take the time or spend the $500 or a thousand bucks to see a Taylor Swift show on my own volition, should the opportunity come my way — the need to squire a young grand niece perhaps, or a newspaper assignment, or neighbor's spare ticket — I think I would embark upon the experience with an eager and open mind. After all, I once survived a live performance of "The Big Comfy Couch" children's television program without any noticeable ill effects. We can't stay young, but at least we can be vaguely aware of what the young are up to.