Kokomo Tribune; Kokomo, Indiana

September 28, 2012

MISTY: Turn that noise down

By Misty Knisely
interim [friday] editor

Kokomo — Delusional. That about sums up what I am.

Wait. Strike that.

Extremely delusional is probably more accurate.

Until a few short days ago, I was of the impression I was a lover of all music. But, as it turns out, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I came to this realization while on a road trip last week with Audrey, a good friend of mine. We were Myrtle Beach-bound, so we had roughly 14 hours to kill — one way. We passed the time with intermittent napping, caffeine, general antics and music.

Her musical selections proved I was not keeping up with the latest artists as well as I had believed. Each time she’d pop in a new CD or selection from her iPod, I got a little more lost. I could tell if it was a particularly famous artist by the look of disgust on her 26-year-old face when I asked who was singing.

The disgust was most notable when she learned I was unfamiliar with the phenomenon known as Nicki Minaj.

I interrupted the song a number of times to help with my confusion.

Is she speaking English, because I can’t understand a word of this?

What is this song even about?

Why is she so angry?

Are there more than four words in this song?

The whole experience made me understand how my parents must have felt the day I brought home the debut Vanilla Ice cassette tape. Yes, I said cassette tape. I thought it was the greatest thing ever. They thought it was noise. Noise that needed to be turned down.

Chilled by this frightening revelation, I decided I would embrace the musical choices of my younger passenger. A couple of songs in, I even started to think it was sorta catchy. Maybe it’s not that bad, I thought.

It turns out, though, that was the lack of sleep and excessive use of caffeine talking. The next day, I was running a long list of just-got-home-from-a-week-away errands, when a Nicki Minaj song came on the radio.

My first response was pride because I knew who was singing. My second response was to listen, since I’m now cool enough to know this kind of music. My third response, which came 22 seconds later, was to change the channel.

 And with that, gone was the delusion and left in its void was the inescapable knowledge I am officially old.