I am grateful that I grew up in an era where "progressive rock" exploded and muscle cars ruled the streets. With the advent of 8-track you could bang through the gears with your Hurst shifter while simultaneously switching tracks on your Mitch Rider and the Detroit Wheels tape. So much fun.
But, I think it is a stretch to assume that later generations don’t seek out and find life experiences that are intellectually and emotional stimulating. They’re just not resonating with, or 100% engaged with the same things we were. It doesn’t mean that life is not offering them generous rewards, and their not pursuing them.
In my teenage years (1960’s) when you got out of school, you either a) did sports, b) had a job to get to, or c) hung out with your friends. The choices to occupy disposable time were pretty limited at the time and a lot of guys and gals grabbed their instruments and headed to someone’s garage. Someone’s parents kindly gave permission for a bunch of kids to make noise in the most acoustically isolated setting economically feasible -- the garage. And, they played and practiced for hours .. and. hours. and .hours. And, some of them got pretty good at it. Epic bands emerged that motivated us to tattoo their names on our skin, set the mood for romantic interludes, or got us so devoted to their craft that we would drive hundreds of miles to campout, and give several day’s pay to see them play. To me, the story is not about the greatest of the great, it’s the sheer number of GREAT bands that emerged from this time period. I particularly appreciate the "one hit wonders" where all the stars lined up on that fateful day and each and every member of the band reached deep inside and produced the best performance of their lifetimes. IMHO, I don’t think we’ll ever see the level of humanity and commitment to creating music as we did in the 60’s and 70’s.
But we can show our gratitude without taking anything away from those who follow. Just become it was important to us, don’t mean it is important to them. I thought the "right of passage to manhood" was to share the experience of a smoky burnout in my hot rod with my 10-year-old grandson. What I thought would be a bonding experience was absolutely terrifying for him. Yes, I did create a memory that will last a lifetime. Just not the one we wanted.