The Kids, The Beatles, and The Bee Gees

Pitching 20th Century Music to 21st Century Kids

One evening, when my daughter and grandkids were staying with us, hubby switched on his favorite playlist. Then he hit the recliner and invited the grandkids to the party.

I rolled my eyes.

Hubby’s playlist includes numbers from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Some from the 90s.

“The kids won’t care for the golden oldies,” I said.

While I was speaking, four-year-old Kai settled herself on Grandpa’s knee. Six-year-old Aju stretched himself along the well-padded arm of the recliner. Hubby leaned back. Elvis’ warm baritone washed over the trio.

I retreated — for the time being. But I was on a mission to save the grandkids from boredom.

Four evenings later, I said to hubby, “You should play something they know.”

To the grandkids I said, “Have you heard of this song called ‘Thriller?’”

Aju isn’t allowed to roll his eyes at Grandma. He replied, “Yup! But I want to watch the video.”

The King of Pop…

So, hubby played “Thriller” on the television screen.

Aju waited until the hero and his girlfriend were sashaying past the graveyard. Until the zombies — in artful stages of decay — had clawed their way out from underneath the tombstones.

Then he hopped off the recliner and onto the floor.

He performed a slow glide and stamped his feet. He jerked his head and shoulders spasmodically, and curled his fingers to make zombie hands.

“I learned the steps in Phys. Ed. class,” he said.

Kai watched the graceful undead in their flapping rags and glaring eyes from the safety of Grandpa’s knee, arms wound tightly around his neck.

After Thriller, they submitted a very vocal petition to view Jackson’s other hits. So hubby played “Just Beat It,” “Billie Jean,” “Black or White,” and “Bad.”

Aju liked “Bad” best of all.

The King of Pop reigned in our living room for an entire week. But, eventually, A&K grew tired of listening to the same selection of songs.

Over the weekend, hubby began mixing in his golden oldies.

Golden Oldies…

“They’ll get bored with these last-century songs,” I predicted, now fully invested in my Debbie Downer avatar.

Hubby, in his model-husband avatar, paid no attention.

He played “I’m a Believer.”

“That’s from Shrek,” Kai shrieked with delight. She scrambled off Grandpa’s knee.

Aju was already on the floor, playing guitar on a pool noodle. He strummed his way with ferocious verve through the songs that followed: “Mony, Mony,” “Sugar, Sugar,” and “Mama Mia.”

Kai danced jumpily alongside.

Over the following month, A&K explored everything on hubby’s playlist. These were some of their favorites:

• “Top of the World” — The Carpenters
• “Surfin’ USA” — The Beach Boys
• “La Bamba” — Ritchie Valens
• “I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow” — Soggy Bottom Boys
• “Billy Bayou” — Jim Reeves
• “Knock Three Times” — Tony Orlando and Dawn
• “Pinball Wizard” — The Who

It was impossible to predict what they would like. They liked fast numbers and slow numbers. Pop and country. And they liked “Pinball Wizard” because one of their favorite Bollywood numbers was “based” on that song.

(For those of us familiar with Bollywood music, the song is: “Yahan ke Hum Sikander” from the movie Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander.)

The Fab Four…

Yellow Submarine was the kids’ blockbuster introduction to The Beatles. They loved the song. No surprise there, since Paul McCartney and John Lennon had written it as a children’s song.

They belted out the poignant “Eleanor Rigby” and “The Ballad of John and Yoko.” But the number they really grooved to was, “A Hard Day’s Night.”

Over the course of many, many evenings, they absorbed the lyrics of their favorite songs into their vocabulary.

Aju woke up early one day and joined me in the kitchen where I was making breakfast.

“Mumma’s not up yet?” I asked.

“No.” Aju replied. “She’s had a hard day’s night. So she’s sleeping like a log.”

When I related this to my daughter, Diya, she said, “I should be thankful he didn’t say, ‘She’s been working like a dog.’”

Bee Gees Groupies…

After A&K watched the video of “Stayin’ Alive,” the Saturday Night Fever album became their flavor of the month. They crooned along to “How Deep is Your Love” and “I Started a Joke.” They discoed on the living room floor, practicing Travolta’s signature move.

They became infatuated with the Bee Gees.

They made secret trips to hubby’s study in the afternoons. There they cajoled Grandpa, when he was between calls, into letting them watch the Bee Gees on YouTube.

Kai wanted to know everything about the group. What were their names? Where did they live? What were their favorite foods?

Wanna visit Australia…

“I want to go to Australia,” Kai confided to me one morning, when I was coaxing her to eat lunch.

“Why, Australia?” I asked.

“The Bee Gees were born there.”

(Correction: The Brothers Gibb were born on the Isle of Man, a British dependency in the Irish Sea. They moved to Australia in 1958, when the eldest brother, Barry, was twelve.)

“But they live in Miami now,” Aju said.

“So… will you go to Miami to meet them?” I asked Kai.

“Ummm… there’s four Bee Gees,” Kai replied, tangentially.

“Really? Four?”

“Yeah! And three Bee Gees died and went to Heaven. But their big brother, Barry — “

“What happened to him?”

“Barry… he…” She hesitated as if casting around for the right word, then brightened. “He stayed alive.”

I checked. The kids had their facts (barring the one about the Bee Gees’ birthplace) straight. They weren’t Jive Talkin’ either.

Takeaway…

Sometimes, children make the best teachers. And here’s what I re-learned from them–

Art transcends Time. Anything that has intrinsic worth never gets old. It only gets more golden.

Thank you for reading! You might enjoy another story about music.