by 
My Morning Jacket and the Timeless element of Rock and Roll
My Morning Jacket came to town and I found out I’m old. It was brought to my attention shortly before last week’s show that a large portion of today’s music fans look right past the supreme musicianship of My Morning Jacket and shrug them off as “dadrock.” If you’re anything like myself, this news comes as a little bit of a shock. Not because all the music I dig sits on such a high level of righteousness. Dad rock or not, I never really cared whether something was hip. I mean, I still listen to Phish if that tells you anything. But now that you’ve brought my age into this, it’s personal. 
My initial thoughts were reactionary and filled with anger. Theses youngsters don’t know the difference between Rage Against the Machine and Smashmouth yet swear on everything holy the last Purity Ring album are the greatest tunes ever pressed. How much could these nitwits possibly know? Shortly after using the word “nitwit” I realized I sounded like every old grump I’ve ever come across. So I backed off and began inquiring within. “Am I old?” This is a question I’ve only had to ask myself rather recently. I’m now at an age where a beer gut is accepted and the only reason I have a beard is because I’m too lazy to shave. Yes, in the grand scheme of things I’m relatively young, but in the music world, I’m ancient.
My second reaction was curiosity. After all, I am a journalist. So what exactly is dadrock? The Urban Dictionary defines it as “The standard set of albums from the 60s and 70s that every boomer likes.” If that’s the case, then we’re talking bands like Creedence, Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith, who came around ions before My Morning Jacket. Further into my research, I came across the Oxford Dictionary which refers to it as “Rock music that appeals to an older generation, or that is heavily influenced by that of an earlier era.” This definition makes a bit more sense.
My Morning Jacket hit their stride early to mid 2000s, so I highly doubt a large number of die hard fans have children old enough to use the term dadrock in a slanderous way, but they could be dads. Heck, I’m about to turn thirty. Technically, I could be a dad (I’ve had my moments). Even though I tried not to care, I still made it my duty at the show find out, if this is indeed dadrock. When I arrived at the luscious Keller Auditorium in Portland I immediately began asking people, “Is this dadrock?” After several weird looks, a resounding “no,” and even a “hell no” I decided to give it a rest and let the music answer the question.
The hazy smile hidden behind Jim James’ sunglasses embraced the stage first, followed by the rest of the band. They jumped right into the long, drawn out chords to “Ciruitual” and instantly captivating every ounce of my attention just as they were when I first saw them almost ten years ago. Next on their set list was a new one, “Compound Fracture.” The Waterfall was released earlier this year and has acted as a sort of revival for the band. They’ve been consistently playing a majority of them on their current tour.
After being hit left and right with classic songs like “Off the Record” and new ones like “Believe,” I realized I no longer cared about any ageism associating this show. It was all about the music, as it should be. Then, thare inevitable happened. They played the opening riff to “I’m Amazed” and I felt the goosebumps running up my arm. Once the synthesizers kicked in in my legs began moving, almost all on their own and when the verse started I belted out those lyrics. I looked around and noticed I wasn’t close to the only person doing this. By the time the solo got going, my whole body was rocking back and forth and I busted into some bow legged version of the funky chicken. Even if I wanted to stop it, I couldn’t. Everybody’s arms were in the air, waving in full dadrock unison.
After “One Big Holiday” rounded out a four song encore, my emotions were running high. I tried to hold onto the euphoria as if it were my youth making one last attempt to feel like I was in college again. I went into the lobby and ran into a man in his late forties, trying to grasp what just happened.
“I had tears in my eyes, I just couldn’t help it.” He told me. We hugged.
If dancing like no one is watching and getting hyper emotional while grown men cry isn’t dadrock, then I guess I don’t know what is. Subconsciously I knew that My Morning Jacket was dadrock, what I found out was that I didn’t care.
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