I'm not a parent, but one of my great joys is seeing the children of family and friends following in the footsteps of their music-loving mums and dads.
It seems to me that this is an unspoken education - no parent ever explicitly says: "OK, today, we're going to listen to Joy Division" (actually, my brother might!). It's a slow, organic process that may often start with instinctive rejection, but gently evolves into acceptance and love. One minute, they're casually ignoring subtle but heartfelt musical direction, the next they're eagerly seeking out obscure Fad Gadget B-sides.
Much of this aural transmission is subconscious - when declaring a love for New Order's Ceremony, my niece asked my brother if he'd played it a lot when she was young. The answer lies in the question.
Not so long ago, the same niece messaged my brother to see if she could 'borrow a few of his records'. He was delighted, but curious - she wanted to display a few album covers (Radiohead, Tame Impala, Loyle Carner) on her bedroom wall. An important step in a journey that has now taken her to numerous festivals and many more gigs, often with her dad and once with Uncle Steve too - Glasvegas in Airdrie, no less. Such is the power of the generational gift.
We know this because we've received it ourselves. In my case, I've got my dad to thank for my deep love of traditional Irish music - from Christy Moore to Lankum, it is imbued with a profound sense of belonging, identity and nostalgia. And, thanks to my then 8-year-old god-daughter, I can now say I saw Taylor Swift on her 1989 World Tour (confusingly, in 2015).
It's fantastic to share these moments with family (good friends of mine recently took their two sons to see Fontaines D.C. in Japan!), but there's also a vicarious thrill from household representation: "She's off to see The War on Drugs again" or "He bought a Smiths T-shirt the other day". Is there a better indicator of a job well done?
In a few weeks, I'm taking my 14-year-old nephew to see Oasis for his birthday. I'm pretty sure it's his first gig, but the bigger question is: Will I be able to get through the entire day without mentioning the fact that I saw them at a free festival in Preston in June 1994? I think we know the answer to that. Maybe it's something he'll be able to share with pride when the time comes for him to bestow his own musical legacy.
What I really want to know is did Chris let them put his record sleeves on their bedroom wall?
Lovely. Have fun at Oasis.
Over here we’re still in the go against everything my parents like phase.
Ah, the delights of nurturing a young mind... 😅