Rock On

Styx was playing.

No, it wasn't 1978, when I attended a Styx concert, not because I liked Styx or even knew who they were, but because I was trailing behind a guy who liked Styx. You know. You've done it too.

But there they were, nearly thirty years later, in my car, on a palm-sized metalloid disc that still looks like science fiction to me.

Sean switched it to "Babe."

Oh, I thought. "Beth," by Styx. I said so.

No, he said. It's "Babe."

"Beth."

"Babe."

This would have gone on for hours (the Pointless Offspring Discussion, similar to PSD but with more emotion) except I began to realize he was awfully smug. And seemed to be sure. And wanted to place a bet. AND had a younger brain.

It was the last that swayed me.

"Well, maybe it's not 'Beth.' Let me listen to it... no, that's not. I'm wrong. Never mind."

He got smugger, if that's possible. "Don't want to bet anymore?"

Of course not. I'm not an idiot. I checked the CD case. Yep, "Babe." Of course. I knew it wasn't "Beth." That must be another one of their ballads, but for some odd reason it wasn't included in this two-disc collections of hits. Hmm.

So I just came home and quietly Googled and I'm sure you know this, but "Beth" is by.... (deep, deep sigh) KISS.

Note to my parents: I never went to a KISS concert. Don't worry.

And I know I'm too old to care about mistaking one rock band for another, but here it's a matter of self-respect, as well as the only topic of conversation at times. Both the husband and the son find it endlessly amusing that I can't tell Def Leppard from Rush from Black Sabbath, although I do know my Metallica. It's whatever's on the radio that sounds just like what I hear from my son's amplifier.

In the last week, it's been his new Relient K CD on all the time, though, and that's been a relief. Actual singers, with harmony! Not a bad career move.