Should I like this music?

All of these artists I have heard of, but have not actually listened their music; am I missing something? Anything?

That is, the music I am supposed to like and enjoy, if I am in the know. If I am connected.  If I have been paying attention.

I have the Beatles. What more do I need?  This was the music I grew up with.  The songs that replaced Elvis in my sparse youthful music repertoire.

Is that new jazz really good? or do the discordant notes in my ear really mean this is a poor example of real music. Does it mean that I really don't need to show my cool and entertain this art, if it really is art?

I have thought about this for some time.  With music, painting, drawing, sculpture or any of the so-called arts, am I looking at artistic rebellion, shock value, or just plain lack of talent?  Lately I have been noticing that a lot of music is boring and repetitive.  The 15 minute guitar solos of the past are tedious and yes, boring. The honking sax and bleating trumpet noodleings of unheard jazz do not offer any reason to sit and listen.  No hooks to take me musically on a journey.  My choice of music has become sparse. It takes a wonderful song to catch my ear.

I have decided it is a waste of time to sift through Zappa, Dylan, Pink Floyd, Miles, Coltrane and yes, even the Beatles.  Scouring obscure no talent blues, rock, soul, classical, hip-hop, county, punk, metal and 21st century electronic cookie cutter music has become a waste of time.

Tears for Daddy

Jan. 12, 1983

I never really got to know him like I really wanted to.  There was the divorce when I was younger. I saw him leave. Sitting quietly in the playroom, I watched as He took an armful of clothes from his closet out to his old car.  Dad never really had a good car. Only second hand ones. I remember the little sedan he was driving at the time. I can remember one night, going to New Hanoverton to pick up one of the girls.  It seemed that we waited in the car so long, that rainy night.  But now he was leaving, mom was crying. Should I cry? How must I feel? This was the sad part and there were no tears for daddy.

I wanted us to understand each other. Wasn't there ever enough time for me?

He lay there, eyes yellow with jaundice. "Hi Dad, how are you feeling today?"
He couldn't speak with the respirator. He tried to look towards me. I tried to make conversation. Tried to cheer him up.

He began so slip, eyes gently rolling up into his head. Those jaundiced eyes filled with death. I'll never forget.

My heart slid as the nurse ushered me out of the room. I was numb as nurses and aids flew post me into the intensive care unit. "Please save him", I thought. He can't die now. We haven't made things right. We haven't captured those lost lonely years. "It'll be better now", I thought