Just for fun, I'm talking pop music today.

I have three teenagers, so it's inevitable.

It happens in the car, in the kitchen, behind bedroom doors, into Adrian's microphone even, and up little wires into their ears.

Their music is only "off" when they are in school.

And, yes, some of it is Passion Band, but some of it is Taylor Swift.

Mike was playing his Christopher Cross Pandora station while the family was foraging through the kitchen for a snack before bed.

And although he is a teenage boy and not a whole lot trumps food (especially when it's been two hours since he last ate), Adrian closed the refrigerator door still empty-handed and stepped to the glowing screen. He began typing a list of songs from the Christopher Cross channel into his phone for downloading at a later date. And then he said this:

"When I'm old, I won't be able to share my music with my kids like you guys did. Every one of these songs is real music by real musicians with real instruments and real talent."

Thus began an impromptu retro dance party in our kitchen at 10:30 one night not too long ago involving John Travolta and a flashing neon dance floor.

Since then, singing along to a few of my girls' Taylor Swift songs, I was beginning to agree with my son.

"Oooo--oooo--oooo-oooo-oooo, we called it off again last night.
But oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo, this time, I'm telling you, I'm telling you,
We are never, ever, ever getting back together."

are a pretty sad excuse for lyrics, no matter how much fun that is to sing. Whole lines are missing, so she just sings ooo, oooo, oooo. That's supposed to be the back up singer's job, not the solo line. Goodness.

Then there's trouble with another of her songs when she repeats the phrase "you found me" (or some derivative) three times and then finishes with the next four counts extending the word me: ee-ee-ee-ee. Oh, oh. Trouble. Trouble. Trouble. Lazy lyracist.

I'm not hating on Taylor Swift. She's clearly a successful business woman with earning power stratospheres beyond mine.

And besides, she did write "Mean." It's fun, clever, artistic, and sometimes—sadly—true. I'm not trying to be the object of her creative prowess on display in that song.

Then I heard—and really listened to—"Fifty Ways to Say Goodbye" while I was trapped in traffic this morning, and I felt hopeful for Adrian's future children.

That song is true music with real instruments and a surprisingly light take on how God really meant a love affair to last a lifetime via marriage. Even the world knows this. But I digress. This is a post about pop music, not theology.

So, just in case you'd like a spontaneous Friday dance party in your kitchen or office or wherever you are today, click through to the You Tube vids and then Pandora. Just type in Christopher Cross and enjoy a mellow afternoon to recuperate from the disco.

 









Pandora

Happy Friday. Keep dancin' and singing. Especially with your teenagers.

And, Adrian, if you're reading, there's even a purple Scion in the lyrics. You can tell your those kids of yours your dream car story.

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