dad rock

about two thirds of the way through the show, jeff tweedy asked the age of a young member of the audience down front.  he or she (i couldn't tell, being on the fucking "lawn," and all) responded: "six."  jeff, after a pause, observed, "that's great.  we're noticing more and more children at our shows as our audience grows older."  then added mere seconds after i said the very same words to my co-worker, "you know.... dad rock."  i'll admit it's no great shock that as a long-time chicagoan, he would have seen the pitchfork review, but it is refreshing news that he at least has something of a sense of humor about it.

fifteen years ago, jeff tweedy was not a dad.  i don't mean to suggest, exactly, that dads can't rock - i certainly hope to continue rocking once the little hotrods are scampering about - but it is noteworthy, however, that his best song ever comes from that particular era so long ago.

it's also, incidentally, worth noting that as much as dabysan frequently and erroneously likes to equate the bands within the meager limits of his mind, the closest jeff tweedy has ever come to sounding like pavement occurs with that brief surge of guitar atmospherics/feedback in place of the bridge at about the two minute mark of this song - which if he claims not to appreciate on at least some level (the song, i mean) even after giving it a listen, i'm calling bullshit.  it's ironic, really; and i don't think i'll ever tire of the sweet, sweet irony which typically precedes daby admitting his mistakes.