Last night I was introduced to Vincent Pastore (a.k.a. “Big Pussy” Bonpensiero from The Sopranos) at the Rescue Me after-party at the Times Square Hard Rock cafe. Nice guy but his hand was thick and smallish and dry — it felt like coarse sandpaper. Vincent explained right away that he was showing the Hard Rock’s historical displays — i.e., guitars and costumes used by famous musicians — to a young dark-haired lady he was with.
The girl, who spoke with a borough accent, was slightly overdressed and in her mid to late 20s, said she was “very interested [in the displays] because I don’t know anything about rock ‘n’ roll. I only know about disco.”
Right away I cocked my head. “But disco was thirty years ago,” I said. “Yeah, but my parents were only into disco,” she replied, “so that’s all I know about.”
First, what kind of cast-iron blinders do you have to be wearing to only know about the kind of music that your parents were into during the Jimmy Carter administration? And two, who admits to mixed company that their parents’ taste in music has not only defined their interests but also kept them from having any curiosity about other forms of music for their entire life?
