My baby boy’s impeccable taste…

Well maybe not always, but we’re reaching a détente

There’s no accounting for taste and if you need proof, acquire a three-year-old. Sometimes my son’s preferences amaze me in their quality. His recent delight at Aphex Twin’s Windowlicker stands as one of the highlights of my parenting life. But he is also, lamentably, a child, which means he sometimes enjoys things I can’t bring myself to compromise on.

Friends who receive WhatsApp videos of him vibing to, say, Dutch electro may be surprised to learn that his actual tastes are closer to the DayGlo stylings of songs about apples and bananas, or startling morality tales concerning monkeys jumping on beds, frogs sitting on logs and so forth. They don’t need to know this, to know that I have failed, given up even. I allow and even encourage his own tentative steps toward forging his own cultural path.

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