It's alright to feel inhuman

I spent the days leading up to my thirty-sixth birthday with people who were much younger than me, finding myself in the role of old-but-cool guy; the guy who prompts exclamations like, "You'd never guess he was, like, almost forty."

For the most part, spending time with people who are 14-15 years younger than me isn't something I really notice or think about, but there are moments when the age difference is clear. Sometimes, it's a little embarrassing, when the chasm of years suddenly seems very deep, and I realize that it sets me apart; that these people--no matter how much they may like hanging out with me--recognize how I'm different than them and their friends.

But this variety in the people I spend time with shines a light on some of the unfortunate parts of aging and helps me shed some of the things I don't like. Okay, we've slowed down and have earlier bedtimes, and our enthusiasm has waned for things that we never imagined being less passionate about. And this is okay. You change and you adjust. It's just different.

What surprises me, though, is to realize how often I have prejudices born of experience that keeps me from giving things a second chance. My mind's archive plays back the times when I forced myself to do or try something that I wasn't particularly inclined to only to find that my initial hunch had been right. Remember?, it tells me. We tried that and we didn't like it. And so the decision-makers in my brain decide to leave it alone and go back to the old standbys.

So I found myself with my 23-year-old co-worker Dave at BWI airport talking about music. Dave has great tastes and is genuinely enthusiastic for his musical loves, and he mentioned yet again how much he loves Animal Collective. My archive fired up: Remember? We tried Animal Collective and didn't like it. Downloaded the new album and thought it sounded like pretentious noise. Don't bother with it.

I ignored it. I went to some different stacks in the archive and found recent times when encouragement to stick with a band has paid off greatly, like with Joanna Newsom and Of Montreal. I found times in my twenties when exposure, repetition and conversation uncovered things that I could have easily dismissed on first listen. I remembered the risks that I was more prone to in my twenties that gave me some of the favorite sounds in my life.

When I got home from the airport, I put on Strawberry Jam again. My first listen had been months before, but this second listen was revelatory. It's a beautiful noise they're making. Like My Bloody Valentine, the pain of the listen is like scratching an itch unnecessarily hard. It hurts, but it's a relief you've been waiting for. Avey Tare's screams sound both ludicrous and luxurious, sending chills down my spine that are somewhere in between revulsion and joy. I've been listening to it tons in the last week, and I never would have if an airport conversation hadn't reminded me that sometimes the best experience is having been inexperienced.

Animal Collective, "For Reverend Green"