I often wonder what kind of music my children will end up listening to. When I was their age I was fed a steady diet of The Beach Boys, The Carpenters, Bee Gees and Roger Miller, so my parents were understandably distraught when the sounds of Dead Kennedys’ Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables blasted out of my room. I had a peek into my future when I mentioned to my son that if he kept practicing the piano and clarinet he’d soon be playing music like the punk rock that was shuffling through the car stereo at the time. “No dad,” he said, “I want to play in the Disneyland band.” Well, thanks to Patti Bao, one of our fine readers, I’ve found possible musical mentors for the kid. Straight outta Oakland, Blue Bone Express — nothing but lively traditional Dixieland jazz here. Look, I’m always worrying that he’ll end up bringing home a pan flute, or let his appearance deteriorate like this, so I am extremely relieved at his choice of aspirations.
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