My Soundtrack Part V: Green and Dumb 2000 -2004

I debated whether the next four years (2000-2004) should have their own post or not. It was a small window of time and comparatively speaking, not as exciting as the previous five years. Yet, for reasons that will make themselves clear in posts to come, these years were distinctly different from the previous stages of my life and drastically different from what was to come starting in 2004. So, a separate post it is!

I feel ugly, but I know I still turn you on…

Entering the 21st century, I was still hungry for new music. The 90s were great, but I was excited for what was yet to come. Most of the music I listened to at the onset of 2000s was from artists I had started following in the 90s. Matchbox Twenty released their second studio album, Mad Season, in 2000. I listened to that album until I had every lyric, chord progression, and backstory memorized. Remember, when I’m interested in something, I deep dive. While their second album was notably different from their debut record, I still connected with it.

There were a couple of new bands that fit the 90s mold that started showing up on my radar. Lifehouse, The Calling, and 3 Doors Down all burst onto the Alt-Rock scene about this time. Probably the most notable new band (at least new to us in the U.S.) that caught my attention was Coldplay. While I enjoyed all of their music, I noticed my tastes began to drift in different directions.

One thing I was never really a fan of, was the testosterone-laden sounds of what I like to refer to as Bro-Rock. What is Bro-Rock you may ask? I would say that Limp Bizkit was the flag bearer. I just never connected with it. In retrospect, I can see the reasons why it didn’t appeal to me. Part of it was likely due to my personality type. Being an intuitive introvert, I definitely appreciate songwriting with an introspective edge to it. I love to listen to thinkers. I had also matured a bit from my Hair Metal days. Life, it turns out, was not one big party. Thank you, Hair Metal! I want my money back.

‘Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby…

What I did enjoy was the emergence of early 2000s Pop Punk. While I was never a big fan Blink 182, they opened up the airways to artists like Wheatus, Simple Plan, and The Used. Next to Matchbox Twenty and Counting Crows, I associate these bands with the early 2000s more than any others. It was definitely rock music and it was heavy on catchy melodies. While it lacked the introspection of my favorite songwriters, it was fun in a rebellious sort of way.

I also liked some of the heavier rock bands that sprouted up during this time. It would be the last time I curated hard rock bands into my life’s soundtrack. Bands like Disturbed and Breaking Benjamin were the most notable that I enjoyed. Soon after, bands like Trapt, Chevelle, and Shinedown joined that group. Again, while I enjoyed the tunes, these artists were not big on introspective songwriting. Another variable was at play here as well. These bands didn’t belong to Gen-X. This was the music of Millenials. While I appreciated the music in its time, I do not necessarily find myself going back to this genre of music today. That said, I wouldn’t necessarily change the radio dial when they came on.

So many castles to storm, so little time…

The early 2000s would also bring a broadening of my musical interests. Ok, perhaps it wasn’t a broadening as much as it was a reunion. The truth is, I’m not sure exactly how to classify it. The reason is due to the band primarily responsible for this broadening is hard to classify. In my most recent post, I wrote about The Refreshments. After their two albums in the 90s, the band had called it quits. The Gin Blossoms had also went on a hiatus in the late 90s. This left some out-of-work musicians on the Tempe Music scene, and they were not quite done making music. In 1998, the lead singer for The Refreshments, Roger Clyne, started playing acoustic sets at some of the local Tempe hotspots. Sitting in with him on these acoustic sets would be members from other local Tempe bands, like Dead Hot Workshop. With that seed, Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers would come to fruition. Joining Roger were The Refreshments drummer P.H. Naffah, guitarist Scotty Johnson from the Gin Blossoms, and guitarist Steve Larson from Dead Hot Workshop. In 1999, Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers put out their first independent album, Honky Tonk Union.

How to describe this new sound? Well, you could definitely see Roger’s fingerprints from The Refreshments. But this band went in a new direction all together, differing from the quirky rock offerings from the 90s. This was dangerously close to Country music. But to call it Country is not an entirely accurate categorization. Imagine Springsteen and Tom Petty sat down with Buck Owens and Steve Earle in the dusty, Mexican borderlands. Mix with copious amounts of tequila, and something unique, perhaps even magical, was born. Where the band really shined was in their high-energy, live performances. This band had fun making and performing music. Their rendition of Steve Earle’s I Feel Alright remains one of my favorites when I want to give the world the middle finger. Honky Tonk Union would join the short list of albums that I would want with me if I found myself deserted on an island, away from the rest of the world.

In 2002, the band released their second studio album, Sonoran Hope and Madness. The band evolved once more, moving away from the Bakersfield and Austin influences of Honky Tonk Union. If you want to learn a little more about what it is like living in the Sonoran Desert, this album will provide you with an artistic frame of reference. The songwriting was not solely focused on Arizona, but also on the special relationship we have with our cousins to the South. It serves as a reminder that the imaginary lines we draw on maps, do not define the people who straddle both worlds. In 2000, the band would head down Roger’s favorite destination, Rocky Point in Sonora, Mexico, and hold a concert in a dirt lot next to a local cantina. Deemed Circus Mexicus, the band still puts on this ever-growing festival each year, to celebrate life with fans from all over the country.

From the metal sounds of Disturbed to the weathered, soul-exposing offerings of Roger Clyne, perhaps no other period in my life saw such a diverse catalog of music. This period had also been one of the most challenging for me personally. Within the span of nine months in 2003 and 2004, I would find myself searching for a new career, dealing with the death of my Mom, and working through the catastrophic collapse of yet another relationship. I was at my lowest point; utterly directionless. What would come next would change my life forever. This time, however, what awaited wasn’t tragic or destructive. My maturation would get a kick in the pants and I would finally meet the first woman who seemed to really understand me.

Next Up: My Soundtrack Part VI: Accidentally In Love

My Soundtrack Part IV: Recovering The Satellites

If the previous four years had been a musical desert, 1995 and 1996 would be a rainforest of new music. In no other period had I broadened the number of contemporary musical artists I would learn to love. It is undoubtedly the broadest expansion of new music in my life. I finally started to pay attention to the Gin Blossoms, as their sophomore record received the attention it deserved. Likewise, Collective Soul would release their sophomore album, packed full of hooky guitar riffs and an occasional kick in the ass not seen in their debut album. I appreciated the fact they had three guitar players, and the way they layered them in their songwriting still amazes me. Their hit December is great example of the guitar complexity.

I even softened towards some grunge bands. I could definitely appreciate the musical craftsmanship of Pearl Jam. Alice in Chains and Stone Temple Pilots put out some legitimately good rock songs. On the fringes of grunge were Lisa Loeb, Veruca Salt, and the Cranberries; powerful female voices who could command one’s imagination. But a new female superstar was about to be introduced to American audiences, from our frozen neighbors to the North. She was in a class all by herself.

And what I wouldn’t give to find a soul mate? Someone else to catch this drift. And what I wouldn’t give to meet a kindred?…

One hot day in the Summer of 1995, I was watching MTV in the cool confines of my climate-controlled home. Just as those in cold climates don’t leave their houses in the Winter, in Phoenix, we do not leave our houses from June through August. Unless, of course, you have a swimming pool. I didn’t have a pool, so I often would pull the shades on the windows to keep out as much of the blistering Sun as possible, and watch MTV in my well decorated cave. The first time I heard Alanis Morissette belt out the chorus to You Oughta Know, my jaw dropped. Her mezzo-soprano voice was at times whistful, while having the ability to knock you over with her powerful belt. Throw in excellent songwriting, and the ingredients for an iconic rock album were all there. Jagged Little Pill would help define 90s music.

A punk rock band out of Buffalo, New York would tweak their sound ever so slightly and produce the silliest named album of the year. A Boy Named Goo would earn the Goo Goo Dolls national acclaim, with their hit Name. But the album also featured legitimate rockers like Long Way Down, Naked, and Flat Top. They would go out on tour with Bush to support the album. The two bands offered a fresh new face to modern rock.

It would be easy to sum up 1995 with just the bands in the paragraphs above. That would be a serious disservice to bands like Better Than Ezra, Seven Mary Three, Everclear, and Spacehog as they debuted to a national audience. Gen-X was coming into adulthood and started staking out their spot in a world run by Baby Boomers. With that, came perhaps the most common underlying theme of the music we listened to: Angst. It provided the backbone for some pretty impressive songwriters, to remind the world that there was a price to be paid for the decadence of the 80s.

We could all wear ripped up clothes, and pretend that we’re Dead Hot Workshop…

1996 was not ready to let up on the gas. The national airwaves were finally exposed to a quirky, beloved band that those who followed the Tempe music scene knew well. The Refreshments released their major label debut, Fizzy Fuzzy Big & Buzzy in 1996. The Refreshments were the second Tempe band to receive significant national exposure, after the Gin Blossoms. To describe their sound is difficult; you really need to listen to it for yourself. Imagine a cerebral poet crafting some skater punk rock, filtering it through the dusty sand of the Sonoran Desert, and infusing it with a legit pop melody vibe. Throw in a kazoo and you have the essence of their unique sound. Their debut album remains one of my favorites, earning Desert Island consideration. Both The Refreshments and the Gin Blossoms enjoyed the wave of a fresh new sound, but they were just two of a some great bands that exemplified the Tempe music scene; specifically Dead Hot Workshop and The Pistoleros.

Other great bands also made their way to the mainstream 90s rock scene in 1996 and 1997. Tonic, The Wallflowers, Everclear, and Dishwalla were new and making a name for themselves with strong debut albums. Counting Crows released their second album, Recovering the Satellites, a solid follow-up to August and Everything After. They were one of many bands who had produced follow-ups to their successful first albums. The era of what would be categorized 90s Alt-Rock was at its peak, with more great music to come. One new band out of Florida would define 1997 for me.

She grabs her magazines, she packs her things and she goes…

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I have a tendency to deep dive into things that I have a profound interest in. It is a characteristic of my INFJ personality type.. After seeing the video for their first single Long Day playing in a Blockbuster Video store, I didn’t hold out much hope for Matchbox 20. While the song was catchy with a bit of an edge, the music video didn’t quite capture my attention. Apparently, it didn’t capture the attention of many people. Their debut album, Yourself or Someone Like You, wasn’t selling and they were playing to nearly empty clubs. It was over six months after the album’s release before their second single, Push, would start to get some significant radio air play. I first heard the song on the radio while driving from Phoenix to Tucson. I immediately loved it, rare for me the first time that I hear a song. The next day, I bought the CD. I lived in those songs for the next two years. So did over 10 million other Americans, as the album achieved the exclusive Diamond status. I dove deep, analyzing the lyrics of each song, over and over again. When I had the opportunity to meet their lead singer and principle songwriter Rob Thomas in 2011, my first words to him were, “I hope I don’t faint.” While my tongue was firmly planted in my cheek, we had a good laugh and he pulled me in for big hug.

Matchbox 20 didn’t have a monopoly on Gen-X angst, but I personally connected with their songwriting more than any artist before. These guys were my age. They were singing about the challenges and disillusionment many in our generation were experiencing. We were all out in the real world now, trying to figure life out. We were starting relationships and doing what we thought people do in relationships, only to find out we were so wrong about so much. Everything we were thinking and feeling was tied up into a 46 minute and 43 second package of Gen-X melodies, warts and all.

As the 90s came to an end, so would the sound that dominated the Alt Rock scene. Collective Soul gave us their third studio album, which was just as infectious as their breakout second record. Dishwalla, Better than Ezra, and Seven Mary Three recorded some great second albums. A few other new bands also found their way into my CD collection. Eve 6, The Flys, and Harvey Danger were all noteworthy additions. But the musical landscape was about to change again, as the 90s came to an end. Many of the bands here would continue making music into the next century. Counting Crows and Matchbox 20 would see continued commercial success. One of the keys to their continued success was that their songwriting continued to mature along with their audience. In the years to come, records full of angst would give way to stories of acceptance and enlightenment. Both bands continue to show a reflection of a generation, albeit with a tad more gray hair visible.

As I dash my ship upon your shore, a mad-drunk and reckless troubadour…

The upcoming years would see my musical tastes broaden and mellow. I would experience my last dalliance with new, hard rock music. As the bands that dominated the Tempe music scene broke up, a new Arizona super group would rise from their ashes to establish a near cult like following. I would never again saturate my musical mind with new artists like I had in the 90s. A new century awaited, with new priorities.

Next up: My Soundtrack Part V – Green and Dumb

My Soundtrack Part III: The Dark Ages 1991 – 1994

It was February of 1991. I had just turned 18 and was nearing the end of my Senior year of high school. I lived in Northeastern Arizona, a three-hour drive from the nearest big city, Phoenix. Somehow, I convinced my parents that it was ok to drive to Phoenix with 3 of my friends, to watch my first concert; Poison and Warrant, at the Arizona State University Activity Center. After the show, we would drive the 3 hours back home. All on a school night. The concert was amazing. My parents’ judgment was a little shaky. I felt like an adult, and I gladly went to school the next morning, wearing my new concert tee.

Oh well, whatever, never mind…

I moved to the Phoenix area that Summer, to start college the following Fall. The world was full of possibilities. I finally had cable television, and by extension, MTV. Let the good times roll! In September of 1991, I was contently watching MTV, waiting for the next great Hair Metal music video to play. What I saw and heard was a serious wake-up call. That was the first time I heard Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” While it didn’t sound like what I usually listened to, I couldn’t help but bang my head along during the chorus. It was infectious. The Grunge era had arrived.

As for new music, that Fall was like someone opening up a fire hydrant and letting the water flood your mind. Along with Nirvana, Pearl Jam would hit the mainstream with their album “Ten.” Metallica and Guns n’ Roses both released new albums. I bought them all, of course. At the time, I didn’t anticipate that my beloved Hair Metal would fall by the wayside. I simply thought this was extra. Needless to say, I was wrong about that. The world was changing. Society simply had enough of the non-stop party vibe of the 80s. It seemed that music, as with all art, was a reflection of who we are as a society. The world was changing. Mine was about to as well.

The Autumn leaves have got you thinking, about the first time that you fell…

On a characteristically pleasant October, Sonoran Desert evening, my Dad and I were watching Game 7 of the 1991 National League Championship game, between the Pirates and the Braves. We were interrupted by a knock on our front door. It was my brother-in-law and he had terrible news. My 16 year old nephew had killed himself. I only saw my father cry on a handful of occasions. This was one of them. We all cried. My nephew was only two years younger than I was. In many ways, he was more my little brother than he was my nephew, because of how close we were in age. My whole family was devastated.

Aside from the acute consequences of a traumatic loss, looking back on my life, I realize that I had entered a long term, depressive period. It certainly impacted my world view and I realize now that it influenced the music I would listen to. I lost excitement for new music. In retrospect, I associated this new Grunge sound from Seattle with some signifcant negative emotions. Of course this was an unfair association, but it stuck. Nirvana and Pearl Jam came to represent the loss of the innocence I had recently endured.

In the years to follow, I would fruitlessly hold on to bands like Poison and Warrant. There were a few bands who were still touring together, trying to milk every ounce of magic they could find out of the 80s. While I couldn’t get excited about new music, I was still pouring myself into what I knew. From 1991 to 1994, I would attend more concerts than at any other time in my life. But by 1993, the Hair Metal bands were hanging up their acts, or spiraling into oblivion. Some tried to alter their sound, to be closer in tone to the Grunge sound that dominated the airwaves.

During this time, instead of looking for new music to become excited about, I began to revisit bands from the 70s and 80s that I didn’t pay as much attention to when I was younger. I would dive deep into bands like Van Halen, Journey, Foreigner, and Aerosmith. Unknown to me at the time, this type of deep dive came naturally to my personality type. The music may not have been new, but it was there during a dark period in my young life.

I even tried Country music again. I figured if I liked Willie and Waylon, I could learn to like some of the contemporary Country artists. I tried. I even bought my first pair of boots and my very own Stetson hat. But it wasn’t authentic. I can laugh at myself now. While some of the music was good, it wasn’t my reflection in the songs. That is, until a collective of Country artists came together to pay tribute to a legendary band, that had help shape their own musical tastes; the Eagles. The 1993 album “Common Threads: The Songs of the Eagles” brought all of those songs I loved as a child, back into the view of a new generation. Better yet, members of the Eagles had come together for the first time since their breakup in 1980, to appear in Travis Tritt’s version of their hit “Take it Easy.” Not long after that appearance, it was announced that the Eagles were reuniting for a new album and tour. Hell had frozen over. This, I could get excited about. Once again, I dove deep, rediscovering their music.

A long December, and there’s reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last…

Time for another reality check. In December of 1993, my Dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. If losing my nephew two years earlier hadn’t broken me, this surely would. The prognosis was not good. At 20 years old, I made preparations to say goodbye to the most important man in my life. The ensuing Spring and Summer were the darkest times I had known to that point. When I wasn’t making destructive decisions, I was usually on auto-pilot. I don’t remember being curious, much less curious about new music. If not for the anticipation of the Eagles going on tour that Summer, I doubt I would remember much about the music of that time.

Though I wasn’t in a spot to be receptive, there was new music out there that I would eventually fall in love with. What I didn’t notice at the time, was that a new sound was beginning to take shape, distinctly different than Grunge. The Gin Blossoms released their debut album in 1992. These guys were from Tempe, home of Arizona State University. They had a unique post-grunge, pop-rock sound with a tinge of country, unique to the Tempe music scene. They even had a hit song, “Mrs. Rita” named after a local fortune teller, just a block off the college campus.

Counting Crows released their debut album in 1993. Songs like “Round Here” and “Anna Begins” were emotionally driven songs about taking on the real world and the relationships that accompany such an endeavor. They didn’t sound like anyone else on the music scene. Though they didn’t land their hooks into me then, it was the start of a new musical discovery for me. I didn’t appreciate them in that time. I was too busy trying to navigate my own entry into the real world. I could not begin my exploration into new music until I was released from the sadness of watching a parent die a little bit, every single day. On September 17, 1994, my Dad died. I felt like I had hit rock bottom. Of course, I was nowhere near rock bottom. I knew no better at the age of 21.

Give me a word, give me a sign. Show me where to look, tell me what will I find?

I did my best to keep myself busy. Life had to go on. Aerosmith was touring that Fall and they would be making a stop in Phoenix in October of 1994. It was a welcome distraction. Opening that show was a brand new band out of Georgia, supporting their first single, which was in heavy rotation on MTV. As I waited, anticipating Aerosmith’s set, Collective Soul hit the stage. They were different. It sounded like Southern Rock and Grunge had a baby. I liked it! I liked new music again! I liked the entirty of their 45 minute set! Something changed that night. Excitement about new music had returned to my life. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was ready to take on the world again. Yes, the past 3 years were awful. Life had changed. But, I had to keep growing. Along the way, I’d find new bands to deep dive on, Collective Soul being one of them.

Next Up: Part IV Recovering the Sattelites: 1994 – 2000

Nothin’ But a Good Time: 1985 – 1991

I have always had difficulty making friends. It is still true today. Thankfully, today I do not view this as a negative. I now recognize that for me, depth is more important than breadth, when it comes to friends. When I was a kid, that was not the case. So obviously, the best thing to do for a child who doesn’t make friends easily, is to pick them up and move them away from the only neighborhood they ever knew. Don’t just move them out of the neighborhood, you should take them from the city, and move them to rural America. And that’s how I eventually turned to a life of crime.

Those of you keeping score know that I, in fact, did not turn to a life of crime. At least not yet. However, at 11, with my parents moving us to a tiny community in Northeastern Arizona, it sure felt like a disastrous decision that I would surely pay a high price for…in the form of therapy much later in life. Indeed, it took several years for me to find my place in this new home. Friends were few and far between. But there was kindness and today, I still stay in touch with a few of my classmates from my middle and high school days.

The first kind person to establish a friendship with me was Preston Bigler. I recently reconnected with Preston and I let him know that I appreciated the kindness he showed that new kid back then. I also let him know that I wished I had shown him that same kindness back then, telling him how much I appreciated his friendship. When I look back on those days now, I realize that one of the first bonds we made centered around music. I would learn a valuable lesson from that all too brief friendship with Preston; that of the unifying power of one of the most personal, inner representations of the self we can make as human beings: The music we choose to listen to.

By this time, I was starting to take my sense of self out on more and more test drives. This is when I realized I liked girls. I also really liked music. I started noticing that girls liked guys who made music. If Billy Joel and Ric Ocasek were pairing up with supermodels, there was hope for all of us. Please don’t judge. I was a pre-teen boy, that liked to think about the big picture. With this newfound knowledge, I began to curate my own musical tastes. While I would never leave the Eagles or my Dad’s musical tastes behind, I wasn’t going to land Christie Brinkley with the arrows I currently had in my quiver.

Well time slips away, and leaves you with nothing mister, but boring stories of Glory Days…

I started listening to pop radio for the first time, branching out from the stuff I had been exposed to up to that point. We didn’t have cable/satellite television, so there was no MTV for me. I was relegated to watching “Friday Night Videos” in order to catch 60-90 minutes of music videos each week. It was still fascinating for me. That Christmas, my parents gave me my first, contemporary rock album: Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” From that point on, my discretionary income was usually dedicated to one of two things; music or girls. Oddly, that still mostly checks out.

You know I like my girls a little bit older…

I started buying albums in 1985. Wham’s “Make it Big”, followed shortly after by Tears for Fears’ “Songs From the Big Chair”; they were the first two. “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” was the first song during this time that I obsessed over when I first heard it on the radio. Mr. Mister, Dire Straits and The Outfield soon followed. I still turn up the radio when The Outfield’s “Your Love” is played.

Preston, whom we met a few paragraphs ago, made me copies of albums by Heart, Chicago, and the Thompson Twins. One thing that a less than vibrant social life affords, is an adequate amount of time alone in one’s room to listen to music. And that’s just what I did. Today, certain songs will take me directly back to that tiny, middle school bedroom. I came down with chicken pox at the end of 7th grade and missed the final three weeks of school. I listened to a ton of music in those three weeks. It was around this time that I first started hearing and seeing what would affectionately be called Hair Metal, when watching Friday Night Videos. The first to land their “hook” in me was Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name.”

If you could hear me think, this is what I’d say…

Bands like Poison, Ratt, Cinderella, and Warrant became the center of my music universe. This genre of music was many things. It was brash and rebellious. It was devil may care and created imagery of life being one big party. In attendance at this party: Girls, Girls, Girls. When not singing about girls, they were singing about rebellion and non-conformity. There were nuances between the party vibe of Poison and the more primal sounds of Guns and Roses and Skid Row. Again, I beg of you to remember that as a teenager, my personality had yet to develop into the rich and complex depths it has reached today. Now, I’m just happy to attend parties with one girl.

The world was new and exciting with all of this music to discover. It was also becoming clear that music was my bridge to making friends. It is that universal of a concept. Around the end of middle school, I decided to learn how to play the bass guitar after a brief but, successful affair with the cello. It was all part of my master plan to become the most charming and irresistible man in the world. Please re-read the section above about Billy Joel and Ric Ocasek.

By high school, Def Leppard’s “Hysteria” would become a phenomenon. They were less in your face than most of the other bands I was listening to. By that time in their career, they were a bit older. They threw in a tiny touch of social awareness, and that appealed to me. Plus, the girls really liked them. I implore you for even more forgiveness. The lack of depth in my motivation during this time still carries with it a tinge of embarrassment. I assure you that the sharing of my shallowness is nonetheless accurate.

By my junior year in high school, this decadent and rebellious chapter in my musical odyssey was nearing its apex and rapid, unavoidable demise. The year before, a couple of my classmates had formed a garage band. Two of those guys were in the school’s Jazz Band with me. As it happens, they were looking for someone to play bass. So, music was again a bridge spanning over the canyon separating me from a legitimate shot at a social life. Granted, that social life was in a small town, but it was about as vibrant as anybody else in the town possessed.

Paint a picture of the days gone by…

I graduated high school in May of 1991. Hair Metal was still reigning supreme, consisting of the most requested artists on MTV. I had finally clawed my way up the social ladder, as far as my musical prowess would take me. Few predicted what 1991 would bring to the world of music. We were all still riding high on the party that was The 80s. We never anticipated a gritty, emotionally infused sound, popular in Seattle, would be taking over and defining the soul of an entire generation. On a personal level, I never could foresee the loss I would experience that Fall. The party was coming to an end. Thankfully, music would eventually return to me, building more bridges along the way. My relationship with music would mature. I would mature. The real world was waiting.

Up Next: The Dark Ages: 1991 to 1994

Warm Smell of Colitas – 1973 to 1985

I am almost 13 years younger than my next oldest sibling. This soon will become relevant. My parents’ musical interests were solidly in the country category. Actually, in retrospect, I’m not really sure what my Mom’s musical tastes were, beyond those of my Dad. The vinyl in our home was curated by my Dad. The smell of a vinyl record still evokes nostalgic feelings of warmth, tying back to my earliest memories of my Dad’s record collection. He had an affinity for bluegrass, but the artists that stood out to me were the deceased artists. He loved artists like Jim Reeves and Patsy Cline, both of whom died young in plane crashes. Throw in some George Jones, Tammy Wynette, and Loretta Lynn, and you get the general idea of his musical tastes.

Hey, you don’t know me, but you don’t like me.

This, of course, meant that any contemporary music I listened to around my parents was created/performed by country artists of that time frame. I was born in 1973, so my earliest memories of contemporary music were artists like Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, and Merle Haggard. I list these artists because I truly enjoyed the music. My country roots definitely fall into the rebellious, anti-establishment country of the day, with the Outlaw music of Cash, Jennings, and Nelson, along with the Bakersfield sound of Haggard and Buck Owens. The sounds were gritty, with the clang of a Fender Telecaster rattling behind some iconic songwriters and vocalists. Put Willie and Waylon together, and some true magic happened.

That was my dad’s contribution. During the early years of my childhood, there was one other person who influenced the music I would listen to and love to this day: my older brother. As mentioned, he is almost 13 years older than I am. He was my only sibling still at home during the first seven years of my life. He was also the one who would be left with the responsibility of babysitting his younger brother when our parents were otherwise engaged. He, too, loves music. Let’s just say that he didn’t listen to George Jones or Loretta Lynn very often. It was the mid-70s, and he was fighting his own rebellion against the world. As I remember it, as soon as the two of us were alone, the television went off and the stereo was turned on. I still smell the rich vinyl today as I write this. That, and well…a more pungent aroma.

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.

With my brother came the powerful guitars and vocals of Boston. To this day, I cannot hear “More Than a Feeling” without the hair standing up on the back of my neck. There was the prog rock sounds of Kansas and the operatic offerings of Queen. I was banging my head to “Bohemian Rhapsody” long before Wayne and Garth introduced it to the majority of my generation, as young adults in the early ’90s. However, none of those artists compared to the band that I would associate most with my childhood, the Eagles. There was one album that my brother would put on that would leave me riveted. Hearing the raspy voice of Don Henley sing about the warm smell of “colitas,” rising up through the air in “Hotel California” left me mesmerized. To this day, it’s one of the strongest connections I have with my brother.

The Eagles would follow me into my adult life. I would become intimately familiar with their entire catalog of work. As a young adult, I would disengage from contemporary music, which we’ll explore later. The Eagles however, came along with me. Their songs were the first I learned to play on guitar. I knew of no other band that could harmonize quite like they could. The songwriting was complex and a tiny bit cerebral. Later in life I realized that the dynamic songwriting relationship between Don Henley (introspective and cerebral) and Glenn Frey (energetic and in your face) was the source of much of that complexity. It was the source of their magic. To me, they are in the same company as McCartney/Lennon and Simon/Garfunkel. As we travel along, it would become apparent to me that I gravitated towards bands and songwriting collaborators. The group dynamic has created the most magical music for me.

After my brother moved out of our home, I often had to find ways to enjoy what would be on the car radio when my parents were driving or whatever artist would be appearing weekly on Hee Haw. Country artists like Kenny Rogers and Alabama were staples during the early 80s. At some point during this timeframe, I got my first cassette player. Being incredibly in touch with what 7-year-old boys would enjoy for music, my parents bought me my first cassette tapes. We’ll not spend too much time on this segment as those cassette tapes were a collection of television theme songs, and a light-hearted collection of 60s & 70s country/pop songs. Still, I would spend hours listening to the theme song from M.A.S.H. and Jeannie C. Riley’s 1968 chartbuster, “Harper Valley P.T.A.” I was 7, what did I know?

Fortunately for me, and those of you that are following along, my musical interests would broaden greatly. Next up, we’ll look how the mid 80s through early 90s treated me. These would be my most formidable years, from age 11, into my early 20s. This period would include the first music which was primarily curated by me. Today, it’s still an era that I find myself visiting from time to time, though I view it through a much different lens today.

Up next: Nothin’ But a Good Time

Roll Down The Window and Turn the Radio Up

I’ve always had a deep desire to be understood. I’m sure it stems from going through the majority of my life believing that few people actually did understand me. You pick the group, I was always a bit different than everyone else. At least, that was my perception. Take a person who feels misunderstood, and they will likely search for ways to make themselves understood. For some, that’s pretty easy. For me, it’s torture. Where an extrovert will go out and boldly find common ground amongst the populous, my introverted, sensitive, intuitive self always sought out subtlety. That pattern still exists today.

As I reflect upon how this desire to be understood manifested itself, one method stands out above all others: music. I would never walk up to someone on a whim and start conversing with them about music. But, put me in my car and I would roll down my windows, turn my stereo up as loud as I could tolerate, and announce to the world what my musical interests were. Silly, I know. But the passive, subtle effort was the best way I knew to communicate to people that I enjoy music and this is the music I enjoy.

As I matured, I realized that was not the most effective or respectful method of communicating my musical tastes. Yet, music remains a window into my world. It’s a unifier and it evokes emotion. As an INFJ personality type, it allows me to flex my extroverted sensing muscle in a healthy way. Similar to nature, I am likely to immerse myself in the auditory cornucopia of sounds, lyrics, and chord progressions.

So I’m going to roll down my window, turn the stereo up, and share with you my curated soundtrack. Not only will I share the music that has resonated with me over the years, but also explore some of the reasons why I hold on to some artists and songs even today. I’ll move in chronological order, though you’ll notice that my musical tastes do not necessarily follow a linear path. Later this week, I’ll share with you the first music that captured my attention and why. I hope you come along for the ride!

First up: The warm smell of colitas!

Parenting The Personality: How to not lose your cool when your children are not like you.

I strongly believe that you find what you’re looking for in life. Some refer to this as the Tetris Effect. Simply put, we seek out things that are at the forefront of our conscious thoughts. When I purchased my first, new car, I distinctly remember thinking that I hadn’t spotted many of that make and model on the roads. However, that perception changed as soon as I drove the car off the lot. Suddenly, I started noticing every car of that make and model. It seemed as though they were everywhere. I had been actively searching for them.

Recently, I’ve been thinking and writing about our individual personalities. Sure enough, the more I think about how personalities influence our relationships in every aspect of life, the more I recognize the force personalities exert on our interactions with each other. This is especially true with those I’m closest to; those I know the best. Case in point, parenting my 16-year-old daughter.

As I’ve written about before, my MBTI (Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) is INFJ. I’m an introverted (I), big-picture thinker (N) who views the world through feeling the human experience (F). When I make a decision, it’s after a lot of introspection and thinking about the impact those decisions have on those around me. When I do make a decision, I want closure (J). When I make plans, I don’t want them to change. And if they do change, I want three backup plans waiting in the wings.

My wife is an ISTJ. She’s introverted, just like I am. She lives in the minute details of life (S) and uses past experiences to best predict what will happen next (T). She has a determination to finish a job like nobody I’ve ever met before (J). She craves that closure. Now, let’s look at our daughter.

The child is an ENFP. She’s an extrovert and relies on interacting with the outside world to understand it (E). Like me, she’s a big-picture thinker (N) who views the world through feeling the human experience (F). However, where our child differs from us the most is in that last classification. The child prefers to fly by the seat of her pants (P). She’s brilliant; however, as her parents, we are constantly terrified because we are always questioning whether she’s planning for life appropriately. We perceive her preference to leave her options open until the last minute as being completely chaotic.

How does this manifest itself in real-world application as her parents? Let’s first look at how she approaches time management. At times, our daughter wants to do it all. She’s currently involved in two separate theater productions, taking three Advanced Placement classes at school, and attempts to lead a vibrant social life outside of those commitments. If her mother or I attempted to take on that much, we would approach things in different ways to manage the stress associated with that level of commitment. Though her mother and I would approach the management of that stress in a very structured way, seeking closure of individual tasks (J), the child is most comfortable making decisions at the last possible point in her thinking process. What would drive us crazy, allows her to feel most at ease. Here are two examples:

  • A musical artist recently announced a world tour. The child, and most of her friends, dutifully signed up for the pre-sale lottery. That was the extent of her planning. When she discovered this week that she had been chosen for the pre-sale lottery, she excitedly shared the news with us (E). Tickets would go on sale at 3 PM the next day. Of course, this led to a myriad of questions from us. How much are tickets? How are you going to pay for this? You want to go with friends, are they ready to fork over money tomorrow at 3 PM? You have rehearsal at 3PM tomorrow, how are you going to buy the tickets? All questions you would expect from parents who plan. Spoiler Alert: She hadn’t thought those things through.
  • My wife and I require an organized environment to feel most at ease (J). While never immaculate, our home is almost always tidy and put together. My wife specializes in organizing the minute details of our finances and planning our family activities. I ensure the kitchen stays clean after every meal and we always have clean clothes to wear. We both are methodical in completing these activities and do not tend to rest if there are loose ends. Enter our daughter, stage left. Our methodical approach to closure is completely foreign to the child’s spontaneous self. She loves to create. On a whim, she’ll head into the kitchen and without much guidance, start baking a cake. Once completed with the baking, it’s on to her next creative endeavor. The path of destruction left in the kitchen simply does not stress her out. She’ll get to it. Maybe. Eventually. If she doesn’t, it’s not causing her much stress from the lack of order and closure. Who is this alien?

None of this means that we don’t guide our daughter through things that are challenging. We are 100% invested in her creative pursuits. However, we recognize that a person cannot successfully navigate life while only focusing on their primary strengths and traits. Planning for contingencies can be very useful. Reaching closure on items is oftentimes necessary in life. Just ask your boss about that one. What understanding our daughter’s personality preferences helps us with is in reducing the frustration when the willful imp starts to blaze her own trail and do things herself. Her loose affiliation with sound time management techniques doesn’t mean that she’s doing things wrong. It just means that she does it differently than we do.

It’s no surprise that I encourage all parents to know their own MBTI, as well as those of their parenting partner and their children. I also encourage that we help our children understand their own MBTI. While personality isn’t the sole influencer of human behavior, it is a cornerstone to understanding the dynamic nature of human relationships. What is your own personality type? What about your significant other and children? How have personality types impacted your own familial relationships?

Don’t Stop at Equality. Seek Equity.

Imagine that you are part of a group with diverse interests and goals? It shouldn’t be hard to conjure up this scenario in your mind. Are you on a team at work or have siblings? Now, imagine you are leading that group of people. Maybe you’re their Manager at work. Perhaps, you are a parent of multiple children. Those diverse interests and goals can be quite a challenge to motivate those you lead. Let’s talk about a concept that should make those challenges easier; striving for equity instead of equality.

Let’s begin by establishing some simple definitions of equality and equity. Equality means that every individual or group of individuals is provided the same benefit or opportunity. If one person gets free tickets to an event such as a baseball game, everyone is provided the same benefit. That’s equality. Equality is great, right?

In contrast, equity accounts for the understanding that every member of that group has different needs, interests, and goals. Let’s look at the free tickets again. What if a member of the group doesn’t like baseball? Is that person going to view free tickets to an event they have no interest in going to as a benefit? Not only is the answer no; the person who doesn’t want the free tickets could view it as a negative obligation. This benefit is equal, but it’s certainly not equitable. It could actually have a detrimental effect on the individual’s motivation. We’re left with the realization that equality has some significant blind spots.

I can’t count the number of parents and leaders that I’ve met who take pride in stating that they lead with the principle that everyone is treated the same. While equality is a vital precondition for equity to occur, it oftentimes falls short when managing diverse people. We should be striving to provide equity amongst those we lead.

As leaders, this means we have to invest our energy in understanding those we lead. What motivates them? This is a cornerstone of leading. If you can’t articulate what motivates those you lead, it’s going to be a very turbulent experience for you. Don’t assume that money is the principle motivating factor for your employees. It is generally accepted in the business world that monetary compensation is categorized as a hygiene factor. In other words, it needs to be maintained at an acceptable level. It has to be enough. What employees really seek to become highly motivated is varied. It could be autonomy to do their job. It could be a sense of greater purpose. It could be work aligned with their special skill set. As leaders, our job is to recognize those motivating factors and tailor our interactions to best meet those individual needs.

The same applies to parenting. While there are certainly whole family activities that are necessary to form a group identity, it’s naive to believe you can treat each of your children equally and let that be enough. Each individual child is likely to be motivated by different experiences. If your child doesn’t like going to baseball games, taking that child to a baseball game with the family is probably not going to provide the parental capital you’re looking for. For the child, it could create a sense that their parents simply do not understand them. We simply cannot treat our children equally. We have to treat them equitably.

You can extrapolate this principle into just about any group scenario you can think of. You’re a CEO? Does your enterprise incorporate a diverse benefits package to provide equity to your employees? Are you a community leader? I guarantee you have people who have been marginalized, if not by a lack of equality, they certainly have by a lack of equity. Are you a parent of multiple children? Do you tailor family experiences around what the majority enjoys? Do you find equitable experiences for those in the minority?

What are your experiences with equality vs. equity? Can you think of a scenario where you could have provided more equity to those you lead? I want to hear about your experiences!

5 Things An INFJ Wants You To Understand

Many of you are familiar with personality assessments. If you’ve worked in corporate culture long enough, you’ve been exposed to some of these assessments. While there is certainly controversy in the scientific community as to the accuracy and validity of personality assessments, there’s a reason they’re commonly used.

I recently shared that my Myers-Briggs personality type is INFJ. INFJ is the rarest of the 16 possible combinations of attributes that the assessment evaluates, with an estimated 1%-2% of the world’s population falling into this category. INFJs are introverted and intuitive thinkers, and while they often times shut themselves off from the world to recharge their social batteries, they care deeply about others. In fact, the two most common titles given to INFJs are counselor and advocate. Here are a few things you should know about me, and other INFJs you will encounter in life.

We’re Peacemakers

As an INFJ, I crave harmony. This is true both in my personal relationships as well as professionally. This doesn’t mean we won’t make waves when the circumstances are right, but our default is to seek peace in our environment.

We Can Be Highly Sensitive

This sensitivity can manifest itself in different ways. My wife has compared me to a marshmallow peep on occasion. We are often highly sensitive to personal criticism, especially when initially receiving it. We’re usually connected in some way to the emotional state of those around us. It’s not surprising why many of us seek that harmony in our lives as a result.

We’re Not Shy

Yes, we are introverts. That certainly doesn’t mean that we’re socially inept. I can small talk with the best of them. The difference is that I don’t find enjoyment in small talk and it can drain the life force right out of me. I don’t want to talk about the weather. If I’m talking to you, I want to learn more about you as a person. And when I’m done, I need quiet. I need that time to go inside my own mind to think about all of that talking!

We Know Things Before We Can Articulate Why We Know Things

We tend to think intuitively. This doesn’t mean that our brain isn’t thinking a situation through. It just means that we are really good at picking up patterns before others do. If we tell you that we have a bad feeling about something, it’s in your best interest not to categorically brush it off. We may not be able to articulate the reasons immediately, but the reasons are most certainly there.

We’re Constantly Learning

Some people are thrill seekers. Some seek adventure. INFJs seek understanding. While some of us have an adventurous side, you’re more likely to find us with our noses in a book or staying in on a Friday night, watching a documentary on the history of origami. When we seek outside experiences, we seek connection. Sometimes we’ll ride that roller coaster with you, but we’re doing it to spend time with you…not the the adrenaline rush.

There’s so much more that INFJs want you to know. While we want to understand you better, many of us have made our way through life believing that we simply did not fit in with others. Because of this, we have a strong desire to be understood. Trying to understand ourselves better is what drove us to take that personality assessment in the first place. Are you interested in your own personality? A good place to start is at the website 16 Personalities. What would you want others to know about your personality?

Misfit

I am, at my core, a misfit. A well-disguised misfit, but a misfit nonetheless. What do I mean by a well-disguised misfit? I can pretend really well. I’ve become really good at pretending to be an extrovert. I’ve studied the Stoics and wrapped my arms around using logic and reason when solving problems. I’ve become pretty good at employing my elaborate masquerade, especially in work settings. Still, as adept as I’ve become at blending in with the rest of the world, more often than not, I struggle to feel like I belong and fit in with those around me.

Of course, there are exceptions. I never felt like I had to pretend with my parents. There have been a couple of jobs where I felt like I genuinely belonged. And for the past 19 years, I have had the fortune to be loved by an amazing woman. A woman who has been a refuge when I feel like the rest of the world just doesn’t understand me.

But why am I different? Why do I sometimes shut myself off from most of the people I know? Why can I calmly navigate a tragedy or crisis, but sometimes become an emotional mess when minor things don’t work out the way I planned? How can I see certain things about other people that others completely miss? Was I dropped as a baby? Am I simply an accumulation of my life experiences, shaping me into who I am today? Am I, at some level, a societal defect? While there may be some merit in exploring those hypotheses, my journal of self-awareness has me focused on another explanation. Is it possible that the answers to these questions have been under my nose my entire adult life?

I took my first Myers-Briggs assessment at 21, as part of my psychological evaluation when working my way through the hiring process to become a police officer. I was provided with my personality type, but nobody took the time to share with me what that meant. Throughout my career, I’ve taken other personality assessments. I’m a Blue. I’m a Dove. All the wisdom a 30-minute self-assessment could provide. While those exercises had some benefit, especially as I tried to learn about other people, nothing was presented on what those labels mean in relation to me and how I interact with the world. That all began to change a few months ago, when I revisited my Myers-Briggs personality type, INFJ-T. As I did more and more research into my personality type, I had an eureka moment. One particular explanation of the INFJ-T personality type made me question whether Oprah had conducted an exclusive interview with my psyche.

While personality type is not a fully comprehensive explanation as to “who” a person is, I do believe it is a cornerstone to understanding other people. It is a cornerstone to understanding ourselves. Personality doesn’t account for the nurture side of the nature vs. nurture debate. We are, at some level, a product of our experiences. But our personalities are the interface we use to relate to the world. An interface that determines how we react to the world.

How did learning more about my INFJ-T personality type help me answer why I often feel like a misfit? It starts by acknowledging that while INFJ is one of 16 different personality types, it is the rarest occurring personality type, with an estimated 1.5% of the world’s population falling into this category. The “N” in INFJ alone only occurs in about 30% of the world population. If distributed evenly, each of the 16 categories should be around 6.25% each. The reason I feel different than most people is because I AM different than most people. Not better than most people. Not worse than most people. Just…different.

Come along with me on my journey of self-discovery as I learn more about why I am who I am. As we make this journey, you will undoubtedly learn more about me. This won’t necessarily be easy for me. I have, after all, become adept at pretending to be like everyone else. It starts with a commitment to being brutally honest with myself. It starts with removing many of the masks I’ve chosen to wear over the years. My hope is that by the end of this journey, I’ll know more about myself. Maybe, as you follow along, you’ll better understand who I am. Maybe, you’ll even start to learn more about yourself.