It's Official

The results are in and it is now official. I went to a family reunion on the weekend and the general consensus among the young people in attendence was that I was probably the uncoolest adult there.

And not only there - and not only in Staffordville that day. But on the whole planet.

Actually opinion was a bit mixed. I was either "uncool" or "unhip." Apparently, the word amongst the kids today (including my own three teenagers,) was that I was variously - "not cool," "hopelessly uncool," and as the final word on the subject - "terminally uncool."

Well, that settles that. Of course, none of this should come as any surprise to anyone who knows of my life-long obsession with bubblegum music. But still, it's a bit rough to hear that I am officially "out of it" from people who don't know of any cultural event prior to the Beastie Boys.

But, fair enough. I've never claimed to be 'cool' in a "Straight from the fridge, Dad!" kind of way. Even in high school, I knew better than to even pretend to aspire to such a lofty self-image as the kind projected by the registered cool kids.

But "unhip"? Geez, that hurt. I've always prided myself on being at least slightly hip. If only in the sense that next to no one shared my taste in most things. In the sense that only a few people got my jokes. And most importantly, in that I liked the kind of music that not only my parents hated but that most of my peers did as well. Now, that's hip.

Unhip? I read all the right magazines. I read all the right novels and bad poetry filled with angst and nihilism. I used to be able to quote Leonard Cohen at the drop of a beret. I listened to Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music. And not just once. I was the first - and only - person in my Grade 13 class to have even heard of the Ramones. I was the only person I know to pick up the debut Blondie album - and smart enough to disown them as soon as the crappy radio hits followed. I was ironic before ironing caught on as a cultural touchstone. Why I once had lunch with that icon of cool Jim Dean - and never even asked for his autograph. Man, that guy made great sausages.

And even tho I once dated a stewardess, I wasn't the type to brag about it. That's what being cool and hip is all about. But that was then, and as I've been told, this is now.

So just what did I do to deserve this fall from grace with these relative self-appointed arbitors of all matters cool?

I raved enthusiastically in public about Smoosh, a new 'rock' band consisting of two sisters. A 12-year-old on drums. And a 14-year-old on keyboards and vocals. That was my crime. And to make matters even worse, I then bragged about owning their CD. I think you could have heard their laughter as far away as Aylmer.

But I stand by my taste. It's hard to get insulted by the same people who gave the world Billy Talent and Ashlee Simpson. Besides, I knew right from the get-go that despite their ages, Smoosh was no teeny-bopper band. They were the real deal. A week earlier I had been flicking the channels on the remote on the late late-night talk shows. Craig the Scottish guy was doing a 10-minute monologue on something he almost forgot the point of. On Conan, Abe Vigoda was doing a silent skit with a guy in a masturbating bear costume. And on Jimmy Kimmel, something even more bizarre - two little white girls were rocking like the best of them. And the audience were actually into it and responded respectfully and enthusiastically. And strangest of all, Jimmy Kimmel, the most annoying and rudest, jaded and misogynistic of the late-night hosts, didn't even make fun of them - not even of their admittedly stupid name, Smoosh.

So what the hell. The next day I bought their CD. I had done the same thing after seeing Nine Black Elfs on the same show. And found that the only good song on the whole CD was the hit they did on the show. The rest was that all-sound-the-same crap you hear on FM 96.

Not so with Free to Stay by Smoosh. Every song was different. Every song was good.And sounded like nothing I had ever heard before. What more can you ask? True, the vocals sound like what you might expect from a 14-year-old girl, but what can you do?

Despite what the too-cool-for-school contingent think, I predict great things from this band. Three decades ago I was dead on in predicting the enduring popularity of the Partridge Family. I was publicly ridiculed in high school over that one. True, my similar announcement about 'Hanson' a few years ago has not yet come true, but time may prove me right.

So I predict big things for Smoosh before the inevitable solo career of 14-year-old Asya.And if I'm wrong, I'll eat my Archies Greatest Hits record.