Brothers don't shake hands, brothers hug

“Yes, no, maybe / I don't know / Can you repeat the question? / You're not the boss of me now / You're not the boss of me now / You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big”.  As They Might Be Giants faze out of the speakers, the way I remember things is that if my older brother wanted to go to an arena-sized concert, my parents would give him the greenlight if, and only if, I was allowed to tag along.   U2’s ZOO TV Tour lands in East Rutherford, NJ at Brendan Byrne Arena and there I am in the parking lot drinking 16 oz. cans of Budweiser.  While I went to the show assuming that the highlight of my night would be “Mysterious Ways”, "Angel of Harlem" was the one that blew me away.  This song was my gateway to The Memphis Horns who appeared on the studio version of this song and nearly every recording for Stax Records that included a horn section, which if you connect the dots, leads to much of my present day taste of music.

I can certainly attribute some of my tastes in music to the fact that I grew up a younger brother.  My older brother’s interest in music and his vast  collection allowed me to spend hours upon hours (when I was not sorting Jason’s collection in Mountainside) to just sift through his records, which he then replaced with cassettes and then eventually CDs (thank you Columbia House mail-order music clubs!).  In one of the few non-physical confrontational efforts to get me out of his room and to stop poking around his stuff, he would make cassette copies of the music that I expressed interest in.  I remember my copy of The Replacements “Stink” and the closing song “Gimme Noise” which could not have been any more appropriate: “I give you my jacket / You give me your glamor / Gimme that record / Gimme that hammer / Are you sleeping / Are you sleeping /Brother John”.

All of these moments have led to my musical preferences in 2020.  A harmonious stew that even cookbook author Adeena Sussman would envy.  I learned to read the liner notes, lyrics and who played what on each track.  And learning the names of the players and the instruments took me further down the path of discovering what I seek out and listen to now: a lot of New Orleans brass, rhythmic vocals and the occasional piano or organ solo.  So even though my brother will be the first to testify that the majority of the music I listen to now is questionable, music is not just beautiful in the eye of the beholder, but who sits in the shotgun seat of the ’82 Pontiac.

My brother turns 48 tomorrow and we do not see each other nearly as often as we did when we were both on the East Coast. However, when we do connect, it is not strange for the conversation to focus on what we have been listening to or what live show we have seen recently.   And although I do not know the next time I will see my brother, let alone attend a concert together, I will continue to listen to music with a set of younger brother ears and look forward to the next time we can have a beer before heading to see live music.

Thanks for reading.