My favorite kind of song is one that requires the listener’s attribution of meaning. Take, for example, the song Super. A man gains the status of a super hero by working hard within the traditional confines of society. He reads the paper next to his beautiful wife and sips a hot drink from a #1 Dad mug. The meter maids let him slide, he pleases the clients. This (a) sounds like an awesome existence to me! This (b) sounds like a terrible, boring way to live. Both are correct because sometimes our inner child is a spiky-haired anarchist punk rocker, screaming loudly about how dull it is to color within the lines. Other times, it is a polite, intellectual librarian taking care to place every book in its right place, so that the next person can find it when she needs a reference for her math equation that will someday cure cancer. I do my best to keep my subscription current for both. Also, tee-ball.

21 Days To Go →