There are not numerous cultural touchstones that will transcend generations. A great cigarette is one, as is really a great steak. Excellent television programs not really much – there’s a concrete and very easily measurable generation gap when it comes to what distinct generations of folks like watching on the tube. Excellent music is even much more stratified. You’re not going to uncover as well a lot of baby boomers who’d list the Arctic Monkeys among their favorite bands, just like you won’t come across as well quite a few Generation Y’ers who’ll profess their enjoy of James Taylor or Smokey Robinson plus the Miracles.
Yet whatever the race, color, creed or generation, it seems unanimous that everyone loves Beatles music. From the quite very first strains of “Love Me, Do” to the last refrain of “Hey, Jude,” Beatles music crosses generations and bridges cultures in a way the music of no other artist.
My family is usually a superior example. I’m thirty three years old, a bit of a musician, a liberal, and I live in New York City. Some would call me a hipster (a label I’d reject, but that would just make me much more hipsterish, so whatever). My brother can be a year including a half older than me, is an engineer living from the suburbs with a wife, a kid and also a sit-down lawnmower. Along with a pick-up truck.
Then take my mom. At age sixty five she’s still teaching troubled children from the inner city, as properly as mentally handicapped children from both the city and far more nicely to do suburbs.