New ideas are good, but ELO rules

I really believe that half the trick to life – certainly the part about not growing old – is meeting new people, doing new stuff and learning new ideas.

The easiest thing in the world is to slow down and say, “Enough. This is comfortable. This won’t challenge me and make my brain hurt today. I need this.”

Let’s review: I grew up in the era of smiley faces, mood rings and phrases like “today is the first day of the rest of your life” passing for philosophy. We wore leisure suits and three-inch heels. Our music was self-centered and vapid. (If you’re guessing I went to high school in the late ’70s, you’re very, very close.) So it’s not as if I have that much to cling to.

One of the enduring mysteries of the universe is that the same music I could barely tolerate back in the day is still twanging out the same old cliches.

I don’t mean country music, which is the same ideas over and over but told by newer artists and maybe with a clever twist. (Besides, after Merle Haggard sang “Big City,” what’s left to say?)

I don’t mean aging rock stars continuing to hork up new product, I mean, follow their musical path to truth, enlightenment and a 9:30 show in Vegas.

No, I mean, the original thing, the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, rigidly regurgitated around the clock. How many times do I need to hear “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap?”

Don’t get me wrong. I loved the Stones, the Beatles and the Who. That’s assumed. The Kinks did one of the best concerts I ever saw at Memorial in Kansas City, Kan. Roxy Music and Patti Smith were both great at the old One Block West.

But these days it’s Los Lobos, U2 and the Dry Branch Fire Squad (that’s obscure gospel bluegrass, by the way) that get my attention. I might even listen to a little Green Day now and then except that would horrify my teenager. There is a certain protocol to these things. We are expected to hate our kids’ music.

Still, our old ways can reach up and drag us back to the past. I was at a bookstore the other day and saw a bunch of “best of” CDs. Hmm. Dylan. Good collection, but I have all these on various CDs. Next? Johnny Cash. Same thing.

Wait. What’s this?

Did I mention that I was, like, the biggest ELO fan ever? Yes, there it is. I am now revealed as Nerd Man for all to see, for all to riducule. I burned the needle through all of the Electric Light Orchestra’s first half dozen or so albums in the ’70s. Saw them at Kemper. Knew every song. No, I didn’t join the fan club, but to me they were the beginning and end of smarter-than-you music for a time.

But I moved on years ago. They don’t get much radio play, and that’s OK. The music was pop but often pretentious, fun but sometimes silly.

Of course, I don’t have any of those old tunes on CD.

Come on, a little voice said, it’s a couple of bucks for a CD. A harmless trip down memory lane. Go for it.

This is nuts, I said back. What do a bunch of 35-year-old songs by some shaggy, artsy Brits have to have to say about the human condition in 2009? Be strong. Embrace the new. Just walk away.

So I thought I could just play it once, and it was fun. The constant vocal tricks were still good, and there was a bit more humor to the whole enterprise than I’d remembered.

But I kept punching through the CD again and again, skipping from favorite to favorite.

What I should do is walk into a music shop blindfolded, grope my way over to the “rock/soul/blues/showtunes” section and just buy the first thing my hand touches.

Jam it into the stereo and drive off, opening my ears and my soul to a new adventure in word and song. It would be good for me.

With my luck, I’d get AC/DC. Maybe I should play the ELO stuff one more time first.