The man who recently came to fix my bathroom tap told me that his son, aged 14, was so disillusioned with music being made at the current time for people his age that he decided to have a go at the classics of the 1990s. Nirvana, Queens of the Stone Age, Smashing Pumpkins, Red Hot Chilli Peppers – and Dinosaur Jr. Not long later he watched a video on Youtube of Dinosaur Jr as they are now, promoting their new LP. He saw a group of middle aged men skateboarding. He was so disgusted he hasn’t listened to them since.
Time was that one’s music affiliations were tribal – Beatles vs Stones, Mods vs Rockers, Stax soul vs Motown, punks loathing almost everyone, very often themselves specially. Your music of choice was a key part of your identity, and came with clothes, haircuts, posters on the bedroom wall, and all the rest as part of the package. Music was less widely available as a consumer product, and if you bought an LP it was so expensive you almost had to convince yourself you liked it. That world is long gone.