Why does classic rock still spin for young people? | Jerry Davich

Could you imagine if teenagers in the 1970s rocked out in garages to music from the 1920s? Or if teens in the '90s had beer pong parties with tunes from the 1940s? Of course not. Yet millions of today’s young adults are into classic rock songs from the '70s and '80s.

Why is this?

During a recent visit to the Indiana University campus in Bloomington, I heard songs from a half century ago blaring from a fraternity house party swarming with college students on a late Saturday night. The song “Hotel California” from the Eagles — released 50 years ago — blasted from a porch speaker.

“On a dark desert highway!” a young woman screamed, visibly intoxicated by the moment.

Then she abruptly stopped singing. That first line seemed to be the only lyric she knew.

As I walked back to my car, I wanted to yell, “Cool wind in my hair!” But my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim. I had to stop for the night.

Other songs from that classic rock era boomed from weekend parties on the IU campus. Many teenagers and young adults are listening to this old music on vinyl records via old-school turntables: Led Zeppelin. AC/DC. The Beatles. Pink Floyd. Queen. The Who.

Who? That’s right, today’s youth know many of these bands and songs just as my friends did in our youth. Possibly because of its timeless, authentic soundscape, a sharp contrast to today’s music, much of it overly processed like an overpriced bag of Doritos.

Through contemporary platforms like video games, social media and streaming services (and ahem, parental influences), young adults are tuning in to the seductive sounds, top-notch musicianship and staying power of music created decades before they were conceived. They’re able to enjoy and embrace “nostalgic” music without feeling any nostalgia from it.

For comparison sake, imagine as a teenager or young adult you gathered at parties or alone in your bedroom to listen to Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, and Artie Shaw. Or maybe it would be Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Count Basie and Miles Davis.

I’d be impressed but it didn’t happen with the masses like it’s happening now with music from 30, 40 and 50 years ago.

Another comparison: The 1985 classic sci-fi film, “Back to the Future,” featuring Michael J. Fox as Marty McFly, a teenager accidentally sent back to 1955 in a time-traveling DeLorean invented by his eccentric friend, Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd).

Many viewers my age weren’t born yet in 1955, so that era seemed like an imaginary time to be alive in this country, especially with the music from that time period: “Earth Angel,” and "Johnny B. Goode” and “Mr. Sandman,” among other tunes. It literally seemed like a different America.

Compare that to a movie released today that was set 30 years earlier, in 1996. It doesn’t seem nostalgic at all. Or fairy-tale. Or imaginary. It was just, well, 30 years ago. But maybe for today’s youth, it does seem like a distant era that they find intriguing or difficult to grasp.

Music from that era, though, offers a different appeal and a lasting connection. Even more so for music and bands from the 1970s and ‘80s.

But, again, why? Possibly because that time period has been culturally enshrined in our pop culture, as a sociology professor from Indiana University Northwest once told me: “Think of it this way. The Roaring '20s for us is the Raging '60s to younger generations,” he said. “It’s more than just music. It’s a time period of U.S. history, and the music reflects it.”

Another explanation may be that musicians in the 1960s, '70s, and '80s were better, more innovative and trained. They created music. They didn’t just process it. I heard this reasoning from my social media readers when I shared a post about this topic. As one reader noted, “Well, that’s because that was the absolute best era for music in the history of music.”

This nostalgic, biased view is predictable from older people, but I also heard from younger readers.

Another explanation could be how baby boomers have controlled the media landscape for decades. Or how so many (too many?) old songs get repeatedly played on multiple forums, including at grocery stores, that they get ingrained in our subconscious. Songs once considered risqué, edgy or offensive are now gently serenading shoppers with mind-numbing efficiency.

This happened to me recently in the produce section with the 1967 song “Waiting for My Man” by the Velvet Underground. “I'm waiting for my man. Twenty-six dollars in my hand. Up to Lexington, 125. Feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive,” Lou Reed sings about trying to score heroin in Harlem.

Today’s young people seem to need a similar fix with music that may be older than their parents.

On the Indiana University campus, at the same frat house party, I overheard the Dire Straits song, “Sultans of Swing,” from 1978. It perfectly reflected a timeless scene of youth, music and generational relativity.

“Then a crowd of young boys, they're foolin' around in the corner. Drunk and dressed in their best, brown baggies and their platform soles. They don't give a damn about any trumpet playin' band. It ain't what they call rock and roll.”