Let Her Love Goth Over Boy Bands: A Father’s Musical Plea

Earlier this year, I read about Pediatrics, a US scientific journal, publishing a paper suggesting that preteens who like "loud, rebellious, and so-called 'deviant' music" were more likely to end up juvenile delinquents. In other words, compared to mainstream pop-listeners, kids into punk, rap, or metal were at a bigger risk of becoming bad--getting involved with mischief, risky behaviour, or even minor crime.

As the father of a little girl whose musical tastes I'm trying to guide, my first thought was, "Well, a run-in with the law is a relatively small price to pay for avoiding That Boy."

Who's "That Boy?" Well, he's a certain pop star whose life-sized cut-out greets me and L every time we need to duck into our local Shoppers Drug Mart. (I think he's meant to sell perfume or cologne, rather than CDs, oddly enough.) My toddler, raised on carefully curated iTunes mixes and Sharon, Lois, and Bram albums doesn't listen to Top 40, so she doesn't know his identity. She just calls him "That Boy." I'm hoping it ends there.

Look, I'm no elitist who hates on popular music; I actually dig a lot of the stuff on FM radio. I've been to Kylie Minogue and Michael Buble concerts, own a dozen Billy Joel records, and watched the first two seasons of Glee. To be fair, I don't really have anything against That Boy per se--maybe he's a good kid, I don't know. It's more the idea of him and his ilk that makes me feel icky.

L is only three and a half, so, yes, it's ludicrous I'm worrying about her music tastes. Still, we've met other preschoolers who already sing along with That Boy's choruses. I need to be ready with some sort of contingency plan the day she brings home her first Tiger Beat-esque sticker book with his face on the cover.

My wife and I want L to be independent, strong, and proactive. That's why we're largely anti-princess, and why we encourage her to play with toys not specifically intended for little girls. It's also why I'm skittish about certain teen idols.

"I'm more worried about L obsessing over 'That Boy' than
I am of her one day embracing Goth or ska."

See, I know preteen girls and boys who are into certain rockers or rappers or confessional singer-songwriters. They like the music, yes, but they also identify with the artists--if not the specific lyrics, then the basic emotions and attitude behind them. The swagger or the anger, the feelings of being marginalized or misunderstood. (People who think preteens don't have complicated emotions don't remember what it's like being a preteen.) If you're 12 years old, Taylor Swift can be very cathartic even if you've never had an actual relationship to lament.

But I also know of preteen girls who love That Boy--not just a song or two of his, but every Tweet he makes and every video he takes. Every one of them tells me he's so cute. It's clear many are pretending he's singing the words to them and only them. In other words, they're not identifying so much with his feelings as just wanting to be the lucky recipients of his love.

I see a lot of school-aged boys with the faces of their idols on their shirts; musicians, athletes, super-heroes. But I don't see a lot of girls wearing, say, Lady Gaga or Christine Sinclair or Wonder Woman. (Some are, however, sporting That Boy's face.) When my daughter's a little older, I hope she dreams not about being a superstar's girlfriend, but rather the superstar herself. I'd like her to want to be the singer, and not the subject.

As for that research study about alternative music? I'm more worried about L obsessing over That Boy (or, to be more accurate, whichever pop poppet fills his role in a few years once he's aged) than I am of her one day embracing Goth or ska. (Actually, drone or industrial are stronger bets, given she dances to coffee grinders and lawnmowers.)

There's solidarity to be found in those communities. As cliché as it sounds, I know people who say the message of punk music saved their lives. That listening to the Smiths or the Cure helped them get through high school. That blasting gangsta rap or thrash metal was cathartic. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with the odd guilty pop pleasure or that everything we listen to must always be empowering, but if my daughter is going to fixate on music the way her silly dad did, I hope it's for reasons more powerful than That Boy's tussled hair, mischievous eyes, and fresh-faced smile.

Erik Missio used to live in Toronto, have longish hair and write about rock 'n' roll. He now lives in the suburbs, has no-ish hair and edits technical articles. He and his wife are collaborating on a three-year-old girl who may already be smarter than both of them. He received his MA in Journalism from the University of Western Ontario.