Big Sounds for Little Ears
by Kid Spill

I have a vision.  In this vision, I am hovering over a brood of children, providing warmth, food, shelter, clothing, comfort.  This vision takes place maybe ten years from now.  The person at my side is sort of a blurry form at this point, but that bit is currently unimportant. The real import of this cozy domesticity isn't so much that I crave children - I am happy to not be drowning in anklebiters until I have declared myself satiated on binge drinking, shared student housing, and spending exorbitant amounts of cash on long brunches.  It's not the kids themselves I long for, it's the awesome upbringing I intend for them that I can't wait for, one that I often excitedly and nerdily describe to my bewildered friends.

I have two older sisters who have, at last count, produced four small lovely children for me to play with. As the young and self-described "cool and favourite" aunt, I have taken it upon myself to culture these children.  I realize they aren't mine, of course, but they're enough mine that I feel generally within my rights to do so. While my sisters and their spouses aren't entirely cultural ingrates, they do have a terrifying predilection towards Too Much Dave Matthews.  I fear for the impressionable ears of my nieces and nephews!  I fear that in such households they will be, as the generations are wont to be, initially educated in Parents' Music, and not Normal People's Music. Surely, yes, there are many people who are - pre and post birth of their offspring - interested in challenging and quality music (said quality is, for the purposes of this editorial, decided by me. Quick Primer: Pavement, Built to Spill, Wrens, Bjork = good. The aforementioned Dave Matthews, Evanescence, The Tragically Hip (sorry), Nickelback = bad).  A friend of mine had a science professor who explained how playing Captain Beefheart alongside Britney Spears for his young daughter has caused a truly astounding ability in her to enjoy a variety of music that is not entirely dependent on the number of glitter bracelets a given performer wears.

Certainly, most kids grow up to be exposed to the gamut of genres and styles. Some make the right choices, some do not (refer again to above description of rightness and wrongness). But! Wouldn't it be incredible if these kids were led along the right path from the get-go?  If my sisters actually played the They Might Be Giants and Modern Lovers albums with which I have gifted their offspring? (Both bands are, by the way, perfect for young sprouts).  Think of the possibilities.  In my personal vision of such
musical guidance, I would have a whole hippie brood of critical listeners, which would obviously, as this is my vision, extend to their critical capacity in terms of books, the media, politics, and the rest of their existences. And, of course, there is something totally, inherently cool about kids who know about and dig good tunes. Wouldn't you rather have a Rachael Trachtenberg wannabe for a kid than, say, an Avril clone? Think about it, informed masses, and bestow upon the lucky wee beasties in your life the wonderful gift of music that isn't Raffi.