I grew up listening to Bruce Springsteen. Later in life, the CDs in my car included AC/DC, Metallica and Megadeth. A few more years into adulthood, my musical taste has evolved to include progressive rock and metal, blues, jazz and the occasional Irish-fare. My taste for classic rock has included Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and Pink Floyd. These are the bands and the types of music that have (to some extent) shaped and influenced who I am as a person today.
Last week, a patient asked me if I had ever listened to the “Sgt. Pepper” album by the Beatles. I told him that I had not; he insisted that I give it a listen.
During nearly each song, I was surprised: I had already heard it before. Sometimes it was a cover song by another artist, or a song from a tribute band, or even from a commercial. I had heard nearly all of the songs before.
Strangely enough, I came to realize that I was wrong, I had listened to Sgt. Pepper, after all. In one way, shape or form, an album that I had never purposefully listened to had inevitably left an imprint upon me in a way that I had never asked for, nor intended.
I suppose culture is funny like that.