I stared at this sentence in disbelief: A study shows that by middle age, music doesn't matter to you as much as it did when you were twentysomething.
“That's ridiculous!” I said to my wife, who gave me her there-he-goes-again look. “Why just last week I bought a new album … although at the moment I don't remember what it was.”
I will reluctantly own that last problem. As I push the far side of what can be comfortably called middle age, my memory isn't as sharp as it was in 1969, but like my music appreciation, it's just changing. It isn't going away.
For instance, I notice that old favorite songs or symphonies actually mean more to me now than when I first discovered them years ago.
I may not immediately remember the titles, but that's all right. It's the music that matters.
The same thing applies to friends that I haven't seen for years. The face I will certainly know and long-term friendship are invaluable.
New music and new friends make life interesting. Age and time give depth and an appreciation not available when we first discover them as twentysomethings.
Music does matter. No matter what our age.