Setlist by DJ Monomaniac

I am in White Stripes withdrawal. Right now, the White Stripes are musica non grata with O, though not too long ago, they were the only band he ever wanted to hear. We’d get in the car and as soon as his car seat was buckled he’d exclaim “I want to listen to the White Stripes!” Luckily, the Old Man and I like the band a lot, so it wasn’t a problem. At first. After awhile, though, enough was enough. “How about Sebadoh?” We’d suggest cheerfully, over his tears of protest. “How about Jonathan Richman?” “How about Teagan and Sara?” “How about Modest Mouse. You used to love Modest Mouse!” How about any fucking thing but the fucking White Stripes?

When O’s obsession’s shifted from the White Stripes to Wilco, we were pleased. And we’ve had a good long run with Wilco. For awhile, we enjoyed indulging in the monomania with O. Wilco has a bunch of good records, and then there’s the new live double album. A lot of material to work though. But inevitably, we got sick of Wilco, too. Not O. Now we’re back to suggesting every other CD in our collection, over O’s whimpering. “Remember the Beatles? You really like the Beatles! How about Joni? How about Sleater Kinney? How about quitting whining and listening to something besides Wilco!”

It’s not altogether dire, since any hip hop that O. is already familiar with seems to get a free pass most of the time. The Beastie Boys are always fine with him. Common or Kanye West he will cheerfully listen to, noting that they are “from Chicago” (like Wilco!) But if we want to listen to rock, we’d better make it Wilco or face the wrath of the three-year-old.

But really, I should count myself lucky. My kid is obsessed to the point of parental saturation with music I like. When O. was but a bump a friend gave us some excellent counsel: “No kids' music, man. There’s no reason for it. Play ‘em real music; they’ll dig it.” Thank God we followed that advice. Imagine if it was Raffi.