I’m a 27-year-old man and I enjoy a ‘dad-joke’ as much as the next guy. But I’ve never considered myself as anything other than a ‘young person’.
I rent a shared house in London, I don’t have any real assets and quite frankly, if my capacity to party is anything to go by, I still don’t know my limits – lockdown NYE with my housemates resulted in me being bed-bound for a solid 48 hours (sorry, mum).
I had always assumed the moment I felt like a true adult, an older person, would be a nice, tranquil moment of clarity. Maybe sitting in an armchair in front of a fire with a dog on my lap. Perhaps I can hear the sound of children upstairs: it’s a Saturday night and I’m looking through my tax returns in a home that I own. If it weren’t for Covid-19 I’d be spending my Saturday nights at the pub, at house parties and on dates.
However, suddenly I don’t feel like a vital young man. And it wasn’t the pandemic that changed my attitude, or noticing grey hairs, or having to debate whether a hangover is worth that extra drink. It was a regular day, my friend had sent me a Spotify playlist called Now! That’s What I Call Dad Rock, created in 2018.
I opened it and looked through the tracks and I felt sadness, and pain. Emotions I didn’t expect to feel – it was just a playlist. But suddenly I felt a weird mix of nostalgia, a fear of missing out, and a sort of grief.
Feeling like time has passed you by or that you’re not the main event any more, those feelings probably had something to do with having lost a year to the pandemic. But I also felt sad that the songs I grew up with were no longer the main event – relegated to an artefact, classic, brilliant, but not yet legendary, just slowly gathering dust.
I saw Mr. Brightside by The Killers on the list and recalled my student union; me jumping around and singing, the beer sodden dance floor and the feeling of being that age.
A young person with intense anxieties, figuring it all out, going through bouts of depression and insecurity, and the soundtrack to it all.
Shouting ‘Stacy’s mum has got it goin’ on’ into a hairbrush, pretending to be a rockstar in my pre-teen years, and singing ‘heaven is a half pipe’ at the back of the classroom.
All those tracks were on this playlist, they were realised in the early 2000s, and it was called ‘Dad Rock’. How could that be right?
The playlist made me reflect on the years I’ve spent growing up, the soundtrack to my anxious times, my breakthroughs and my misdemeanours.
Hell, maybe I’m not as young as I thought.
I’ve been working for the best part of a decade now. I remember when I was a 16-year-old lad and I used to think my 22-year-old gap year teachers were sophisticated adults, who lived such eventful lives.
Now, when I remember what I was like at 22 I was anything but – and Mr. Brightside had already been out for several years at that point.
Some of my friends are now married and have children. I see others buying houses to live in and also as investments. I’m ‘dad’ age and I didn’t even realise it.
The soundtrack to my youth is old news and although that made me feel a sadness initially, I felt comforted after I’d spent some time thinking about it.
I survived my teens and my early twenties, I witnessed great music and intense times and I put down roots. I’ve been listening to Now! That’s What I Call Dad Rock non-stop and sharing it with all my friends.
I’ve been enjoying the comfort that comes with being over 25 and I’m not as worried by it as I was when I first thought of myself as being ‘dad’ age.
Maybe lockdown’s given me more time to think about things, helped me accept things and let them wash over me. Or maybe it’s just the grace and wisdom of age.