Nirvana subjective age transformation

Back on Monday, when I made my first appearance as a tutor/teaching assistant in front of the class of 200-level students, I had to say a few words of introduction. J, beside me, had just said something short and sweet and splendid, and I had a half-second to wonder what I would say.
As always, I just opened my mouth and talked without thinking it through. My brain tried to formulate a pithy comment revealing what exactly my role was, but it shifted direction when it realised I hadn’t the slightest idea. So instead it veered into a conversation I’d just had with J a few minutes before. I suspect this seemed like a good idea because it would build some common identity with the students – it would be a point of similarity. And so I said,
“…and this is kind of a homecoming for me, because I did this course myself in 1995…”
Only after I’d shut my mouth again did I realise that I hadn’t built common cause – I’d marked myself out as very much the other. Because, much as it surprises me to think it, 1995 is a very long time ago. Some of the students in the room with me would have been 6 years old when I had taken this course. I had declared myself, as a point of particular interest, Old.
As the class filled in a survey I applied the Nirvana subjective age transformation in order to see myself through their eyes. Nirvana, you see, is my music year zero; it hit in that glorious time when you’re 16-17 and your musical tastes take proper shape, if they don’t calcify entirely.
The Nirvana subjective age transformation allows me to understand how old I seem to them, but transforming Nirvana into a band similarly distant from me. To them, Nirvana seems roughly as hip as a band from the early 80s would have seemed to me.
My subjective equivalent: someone whose music year zero was Blondie.
(Not that I mind being older in the least – being 31 is pretty damn sweet, actually – its just helpful to remember how one comes across to the Yoof Of Today.)

8 thoughts on “Nirvana subjective age transformation”

  2. Ach, I did some lecturing last year and quickly realised that I was easily old enough to be *mother* to the callow and diffident mob sprawling before me. And have no idea what the young folk of today are listening to: Emo, isn’t it?

  3. To them, Nirvana seems roughly as hip as a band from the early 80s would have seemed to me.
    Actually, Nirvana was pretty popular when I was 16 too. According to my little sister, who is 14 at the moment, they are _still_ incredibly popular. Nirvana is ageless.
    Though there also seems to be a bit of a revival going on. My little sister and her mates also like bands like Guns and Roses and ACDC.

  4. I’m 31. Bands from the early 80s rock. The Human League and New Order can kick 18 kinds of shite out of most of the charts today.

  5. Yeah, I was just going to make the same point as Jack – that, once the first flush of teenagedom has worn off, many people discover that the music that was big when they first became aware of pop music as a child (i.e, probably from about ages 3 through to 6 or 7) becomes a personal favourite again.

  6. First tape I ever bought was a big green bastard called mega mixes. It had ten minute over-synthesized versions of Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Go West, and a bunch of other over blown eighties greats. I loved it. Then, I realised as I enetered my teens that it was a huge pile of wank. Then, at about 20, I realised it was actually just as awesome as I first thought, and played it about two more times before suddenly it was stretched unplayable.
    There was some kind of major lifelesson I internalised from all this, and I think that’s why my girlfriend is 19.

  8. I feel kinda priveledged that we were around at the time and can say ‘we were there’ to anyone we can get to listen to our tales of youth.

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