The day the music was born

I have no real memory of music before Feb. 9, 1964.

That’s the night The Beatles played live on “The Ed Sullivan Show.”

There was music in my young life before then. I was a few months shy of 11.

But it was my parents’ music -- the Broadway musicals and Perry Como and Nat King Cole.

For all intents and purposes, their music was background music to my life.

The Beatles finally gave me my music that became the forefront of my Baby Boomer generation.

It consumed me. What length there was to my crew cut hair I mashed down onto my forehead to look like John, Paul, George and Ringo.

Everything flowed from that first night. My records. My guitars. My music.

The Beatles led me to Bob Dylan and Paul Simon, then to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and Neil Young, and on … and on … and on.

My music was born on Feb. 9, 1964 and morphed into a variety of rock, pop, folk, funk and metal over the years.

To many in my cohort, the music died with the birth of the new sounds.

I’m reminded of many comments I read from my contemporaries on Facebook as they watched the Grammy Awards last month.

Basically the theme was: Who are these people? And what are they singing?

To them, music is dead if it’s being sung by Justin Bieber. To them, the music is dead if Lady Gaga is simply ripping-off what Madonna was doing 20 years ago.

I don’t quite see it that way. I think my music is still alive and well.

It continues to morph in the way it has always changed. Baby Boomers shouldn’t have so much conceit about their music that they dismiss out of hand anything else.

The Music lives in Green Day and the Avett Brothers and Mumford and Sons and countless others.

And with Paul Simon still making music -- still playing after all these years and with the release of his new album “Afterlife” -- it hasn’t died by any means.

There's no RIP yet.