In which the older and wiser are not surprised

After a couple of more than usually frenetic weeks I was catching up with some favourite blogs last night and found this at Johnny's in the Basement, the music blog that celebrated Australian blogger Tim Dunlop writes for crikey.com.au.

I'd just like to say that, like my almost-exact contemporary Mark Holden, I thought that this child (as she then was) was the outstanding pick of the bunch even at sixteen, far too classy and original for Australian Idol. Go over to Tim's and watch it.

And speaking of generational tastes in music, there was a sad moment the other night when James Taylor and Carole King left the stage for their half-time orange quarters (and I'm not going to rave about them here for fear of being mocked by persons younger than myself; Leonard Cohen seems curiously immune from said mockery, but I fear Taylor and King may not be, despite their well-deserved legendary status) and my entire demographic got up and painfully stretched -- a great deal of Adelaide's cavernous Entertainment Centre is made of cement, including, it would seem, the seats -- thereby releasing an unmistakable eau de Boomer into the atmosphere. 'Ah,' said my friend D, 'the aroma of our generation. Half patchouli oil, half Denco-Rub.'