Chris Johnson: T-t-talkin' bout your generation

There are little moments that make 45-year-olds like me feel really old. One is when you look at your date of birth. Another is when you flip by a music awards show and realize that not only have you never heard these songs, nor do you know who these so-called artists are, but also you can't even make out what they're singing.

I recently flipped away from a football game -- almost always a big mistake -- and saw that some music awards show was on. I don't recall the name, but with 437 awards shows these days, who can keep up? Between going to all these awards shows, how do celebrities even get the time to make a product worth awarding or film another sex tape?

Acclaimed donut-licker Ariana Grande was performing and wailing some unintelligible lyrics. I know she has some talent because I've seen her belt out some old Motown songs I could actually understand during a show at The White House.

(Note: I saw that show from The White House on TV, not actually at The White House. I haven't been allowed back since I broke the Watergate scandal for the Little Elves Daycare Times-News in a piece that was stolen by the Washington Post. My preschool teacher also sent a note home that day: "Chris was supposed to be tracing his hand to make a turkey, but instead chose to write an inflammatory piece about our wonderful President Nixon.")

After Ariana, Gwen Stefani read the phone book and the boys from One Direction impersonated the animatronic characters from Chuck E. Cheese, and I was done.

As my wife and I shook our heads and talked about the terrible excuses for music, I realized I'd been through this conversation from the other side when my parents hated my music.

Granted, these Baby Boomers had come from an era that considered Elvis, the Beatles and the Everly Brothers controversial, so they had a little trouble wrapping around folks like Prince, AC/DC and 2 Live Crew. And they were none too thrilled after my very first concert at age 16 was the Beastie Boys at the old Municipal Auditorium in Columbus. I explained to them that I had a license to ill, but they explained that if I pulled that again I wouldn't have a license to drive.

But this is something each generation goes through. Their kids play horrible music while the cool, cutting-edge tunes they grew up on are playing on an "oldies channel" or "adult contemporary."

(WHITESNAKE IS NOT SOFT-ROCK! Sorry, had to get that off my chest.)

Of course, my mom and her rock-n-roll brothers got yelled at by my World War II veteran grandfather who once played in the band with Cowboy Copas (who died in the plane crash with Patsy Cline) and preferred Boxcar Willie to Jimi Hendrix.

I guess when it comes to music, it's all relative -- no, I don't mean Sister Sledge, the Doobie Brothers and Uncle Kracker. It just depends on the time and how young the ears are.

When it comes to the music of today, my ears are obviously too old. Guess I'll just chill out here with my oldies station. Ah, yes, the soft sounds of The Beastie Boys.

Just don't tell my folks.

Connect with Chris Johnson at Facebook.com/KudzuKidWriting, Twitter @kudzukid88 or kudzukid88@gmail.com.

This story was originally published December 5, 2015 at 8:58 PM with the headline "Chris Johnson: T-t-talkin' bout your generation."