Story Time With J-Dub: Episode 13 – The Day I Lost My Taylor Swift “Virginity”

Yes…you read that title correctly, but believe me there’s nothing untoward in today’s tale. I’ve often said that as a writer, one simply never knows from where inspiration may strike. If you’ve followed this blog for any amount of time, you know that short of her relationship with Travis Kelce, Taylor Swift really has no reason to grace these electronic pages.

Well, thanks to a new friendship, that’s changed…at least for today. Young or old, the early stages of any new friendship are filled with discovery. That’s a big part of why the older I get, the more I value friendships with those younger than me. The generation behind me will be the ones running the world when I’m drooling on a keyboard at the home for old bloggers; it’s probably not a bad idea to get a grasp on what makes them tick.

In other words, when such a new acquaintanceship happens to be with a woman some 25 years my junior, there’s considerable size to the range of things discovery could be bringing my way. That how we end up at today’s “peanut butter meets chocolate” moment.

As the tide of discovery drifted us into music, I discover a) this woman is a “Swiftie” of the first order, and b) this just so happens to be about two days before Taylor Swift’s big album drop a week or so ago. Either way, this is when I see the Taylor Swift tsunami bearing down on me.

But before I get to that, there does need to be a bit of background as to how this friendship came about. It’s the classic case of two people being pushed together by circumstance; the situation saw the polite “small talk” evolve into an honest two-way exercise in said discovery. The one trait all solid friendships share is their foundations are excavated in common ground.

In no time, that’s precisely what was happening between “Kelly” and I (not her real name).

Our parents both divorced when we were young. Children of divorce often share similar life experiences which are completely foreign to the kids raised just this side of Ward and June Cleaver. To that end, we then found out our mothers have the same name. As the afternoon progressed, we covered so much common ground the concept of “friendship” didn’t seem to fit anymore. That was when I adopted “Kelly” as my “little sister from another mister;” likewise I became her “big brother from another mother.”

However, today’s tale doesn’t live on common ground; instead it’s resides in the land of difference. For starters, “Kelly” is an adorable, petite blond with eyes the color of imperial jade and a radiant aura defining her engaging persona. That’s nearly the perfect contrast to my dark eyes; the window to my significantly darker soul, and my offensive lineman-sized physique.

Anybody who knows me understand that one of the only things bigger than my brobdingnagian build is my love of music. This led to the “common difference” which cemented the bond “Kelly” and I constructed that day. She also harbors a gigantic love of music; somehow she manages to house it in a body more suited to an Olympic gymnast, not a behemoth befitting a jersey number starting with a “6.”

That’s the “common” part.

The difference comes in our musical obsessions. Mrs. J-Dub will tell you that my not-so-secret musical idolatry rests solely at the feet of the shrine I have in my head for John Wetton.

Before you say it…yes, you have heard John Wetton’s work. If you owned a radio anywhere in the Western world at any point from 1982 on, there’s literally no way you missed the mega-sonic-bomb hit Heat of the Moment by the quartet of “prog rock” veterans known as Asia.

The blue-eyed baritone on bass with his jacket sleeves scrunched years before Don Johnson…you guessed it…that’s John Wetton. But before he took his unique sound and tamed it just enough for the fame provided by early MTV, it formed the four-string foundation of my favorite incarnation of King Crimson…where my Wetton obsession hits overdrive.

Here’s the “difference” part. “Kelly” also has a musical obsession; she defines the term “Swiftie.”

In other words, allow me to share what happens when you tell a hardcore Taylor Swift devotee a) about your extensive musical background and b) you’ve never heard a single note of any of Swift’s work. This is the moment the Jehovah’s Witnesses show up on your doorstep; the conversion attempt is coming in full force. But as mentioned, I’m the one with the want to understand the generation behind me.

Unless I want to brand myself as a hypocrite, at this point I have no choice but to play along.

In other words, I told my new “Swiftie Sister” to pick a three-song “starter pack,” and I would give them an objective listen. While I’m an instrumentalist, writer, and composer, I’m also on record as believing that one simply cannot dismiss out of hand an entire genre of music simply because of one’s personal tastes. Again, unless I want to piss all over my own values…Taylor Swift. here I come.

The bottom line: I listened to the three songs “Kelly” picked, and as promised I shared my thought on them with her. And thanks to the miracle that is the blog–o-sphere, you too can experience my “die on that hill” takes.

All Too Well (The 10 Minute Version)

At first, “Kelly” was reluctant to put this song on her list strictly due to it’s length. That was when I had to give her the “intro” to progressive rock…it can take at least that long just to get us “proggers” warmed up. But this is also where the “peanut butter/chocolate” – “John Wetton/Taylor Swift” moment happens.

Bolder still, I also make a direct comparison between Taylor Swift and (gasp!) Sir Paul McCartney and fire a shot across the bow of the anti-Swift crowd.

This is where we get to the “die on that hill” part.

Timeless

This was definitely “Kelly’s” least favorite of my impressions. Sorry, but I was just calling “balls and strikes” here…for me this song is a big exercise in “what might have been.”

Illicit Affairs

Wetton-ality aside, this was easily my favorite in the “Kelly Countdown.”

This song “raw-dogs” the emotion of a love triangle, much like Robert Fripp’s Three of a Perfect Pair does in a “proggy” way back in the early 80s. The Judeo-Christian world goes out of it’s way to maintain the illusion of the monogamous nature of human beings; that’s why we treasure those relationships that will actually last a lifetime.

The problem is that there are times when needs outstrip wants. If you go back to the setup for this piece, and if you consider the fact both “Kelly” and I come from divorced parents, you can understand the appeal of this song.

The topper is we are both very happily married, so there’s absolutely zero chance of us checking into a hotel to pour salad oil all over each other. Not to mention, considering how young and energetic she is, one night with somebody like her would easily kill me. Shit, it wouldn’t even take that long; I’d be watching the 11 o’clock news from the inside of a rubber bag at the county morgue.

My friends, that is how the peanut butter met the chocolate. Here you have the not-so-dirty details of my exposure to Taylor Swift. That being said, this is NOT an invitation for the rest of you “Swift-hovah’s Witnesses” to start banging on my door.

You all should know that all too well.

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