REFLECTIONS ON YOUTH
AND BRITISH BAD BOYS
My parents listened to the Monkees. Most of the adults in my small New York town played Frank Sinatra, the Boston Pops, Mantovani and Broadway musical soundtracks. In our house, my father's enormous record collection included the Kingston Trio, Simon & Garfunkel, the Mamas and the Papas, the Dave Clark Five, the Beach Boys, the Supremes, even the Moody Blues.
But he drew the line at the Rolling Stones.
"What the heck is that?" he'd cry, standing in my bedroom doorway, looking pained.
Like my friends, I bought albums by the Beatles and a long line of soulful singer / songwriters. But when protest and radicalism encroached on our very proper white-bread Long Island town, not only did I want to join it, I wanted to listen to it.