How to survive your kids' obsession with Taylor Swift/Olivia Rodrigo/Sabrina Carpenter/etc.

AND bond with them AND hear your own music AND NOT alienate them

Before I get to this week’s newsletter, an exciting announcement: I contributed an essay to a powerful anthology called “Notes from Dad,” and it’s going to be released May 16. The brainchild of my great good friend Jason “Cherry Limeade” Meinershagen, who is famous (or should be!) for doing burpees in the bucket of a firetruck, “Notes from Dad” is full of inspiring essays on fatherhood.

Contributors include 14 F3 men; a handful of them are readers of this newsletter. My piece is about passing on a spirit of adventure to my kids … and living to regret it. At the launch, I will offer “Notes from Dad” for the special rate of $1.99. Watch for the link as that date hits.

The greatest music idea I’ve ever had … and ever will have … what can I say except YOU’RE WELCOME

There comes a time in every dad’s life where he has to put his foot down and say I CAN’T LISTEN TO THAT SONG ONE MORE TIME FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLAY SOMETHING ELSE.

And when that dad says that, he will feel better for approximately 47 seconds, more if indeed he gets a break from whatever that song is, and then he will feel lousy, because what kind of jerk dumps on music that somebody else loves, especially if that somebody else is his own kid?!?

Yes, at some point we all get sick of whatever our kids love. I will never understand how Caillou lasted more than one episode or how that song Creature Report from The Octonauts ever got made. But long term, it’s just being a crummy dad if all you do is complain about what your kids watch/listen to. It’s just being a crummy dad if you dismiss all of it as garbage. It’s just being a crummy dad if you show not only no interest, but disdain for what your kids like.

So how to solve this conundrum that has flummoxed parents since the invention of the car radio, by which I mean music that’s not as good as it was when I was a kid?

Fear not, for this winter I stumbled upon a solution which my daughter and I love, which I will now share with you dear reader, and you dang sure better thank me abundantly in the comments (and later, after you have implemented this, share what songs get most played).

It started on the way to basketball practice when I could not stand to listen to a particular Taylor Swift song one more time. (I’m leaving the title out for obvious reasons. If I have to explain them you haven’t read this far anyway.) I love many of her songs. But not all of them. How could I figure out a way to listen to only TayTay’s good songs?

And suddenly it hit me all at once. So here’s what we do now:

Each time we get in the car, for the first song, I play DJ and select only songs by artists my daughter likes. For the second song, she plays DJ and selects only songs by artists I like, and so on.

The results: Disappearance of those massively annoying ear worm songs that are also bad! Appearance of songs of your own! Insight into what your kid likes and why! Instant bonding!

Why do you like this song? Why did you pick that song? This is why I like this song. This is why I chose that song.

These are the songs that are most played since my daughter and I started this; I’d love to hear what y’all come up with …

When I pick …

All Too Well, Taylor Swift.

22, Taylor Swift.

Shake It Off, Taylor Swift.

Never Getting Back Together, Taylor Swift.

Love Story, Taylor Swift.

You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift.

I Want To Get Him Back, Olivia Rodrigo. I am starting to suspect I’m a big fan of Olivia Rodrigo; I like every song my daughter has played for me.

You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful

When she picks …

Spirit of Radio, Rush. She thinks part of it sounds like The Wheels on the Bus, which now that I’ve heard it, I can’t unhear it.

Message in a Bottle, The Police version, not TayTay’s different song of the same name. This has been on in our car so often her friends know it and love it (or at least sing along.) Totally random and true story: In 2016, I covered the NASCAR banquet, at which Sting performed. I was walking down the hall interviewing a NASCAR driver who was wearing, I kid you not, a bow tie made of wood. We passed a room where Sting was rehearsing. He was playing this song, so I pretty much ended the interview so I could stop and listen to the best song he ever wrote, and he wrote a bunch of great ones.

Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, The Police.

Master of Puppets, Metallica. She likes this, I think, in large part because it was on Stranger Things. I just about lost my mind at how epic that scene was.

Times Like These, Foo Fighters. Lately this is her most requested.

Comfortably Numb, Pink Floyd.

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Coming next week

First in a series about hiking the tallest peaks in three states. Excerpt:

There’s something about ascending to the top of a mountain. Few people wax poetic about descending into deep valleys. Fewer still get misty-eyed about a long walk across the plains. But there are countless odes to the joys of reaching new heights.

As I climb, I think about why.

Overcoming fear is part of it. The higher you climb, the farther you could fall. And the very name of this mountain—Mount Mitchell—should make anyone who climbs it stop and think about what they are doing and why they are doing it.

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