There is hope. Earlier at the park were some kids, around ten to twelve, talking and listening to music on a smartphone. They were passionately arguing over what album a particular song was from.
On arrival T immediately and approvingly identified the sounds as “automusik”. That is how she calls what she heard in our car most times, and indeed it was “One”, by Metallica. Which the youngsters not only knew, but on occasion also assigned to the correct album.
So even though my taste in music developed (cemented, some argue) more than two decades ago, some in the next generation encounter those same songs, hence comfortably assuring me that I am not totally uncool yet.
We were at a homecoming event at Culloden battlefield this morning, pictish facepaint, banner-crafting, highland dance and all.