The dance floor was much more crowded the other night. No swinging there.
“It was the summer of 69,” sang the band at a local bar, covering Bryan Adams. In Sun City, no less. My kids think it funny that there are bars in Sun City with live music. Boomer bands are popular there. After all, the median age of Sun City community residents is 72.7, solidly baby boomer. Therefore, I was disappointed that much of the music was unfamiliar to me that night.
I confess I was never a pop music aficionado, concentrating on classical piano and flute. In the 60s teens relied on the radio for music, limited to whatever the DJ presented. There was no Spotify or Sirius to cater to our whims. Sharing a room in a full house, I danced to the transistor radio when I could isolate in the bathroom for my bath. My friend Betty and I listened to our small library of albums in her basement. I was almost out of high school before we had a radio in the car.
Getting married, graduating college, and beginning a family took most of my attention in the 70s, widening my distance from pop culture. My children exposed me to a smattering of music in the 70s, 80s, and 90s.
On the dance floor, that night at the bar, a dance partner—the advantage of today’s dancing is that you dance in groups, mixed genders—commented—no shouted—that she didn’t remember the summer of 69; she had been in junior high then. I had been in college. I remembered that summer.
The band played on, music with a good beat, easy to dance to. I danced but couldn’t shout out the lyrics with others. Back at the table, I googled the lyrics on my phone. Thank goodness for Google.
What happened to the music of the 60s and 70s? My suggestions to a band I sat in with were met blank stares. Really, how can a band not know American Pie?
I suggested to Mike that we host a party featuring only music of the 60s and 70s. Knowing my friends, they will show up, for the food, drinks, and laughs, although many of them are younger than I. They may try to sneak in some 80’s music, but I will be ready to block them. After all, it’s my party.
