It made me wonder what it would be like to live in a world in which all music is seasonal.
"What's that music we listen to in July, around Independence Day, with the guys who miss their mama or girlfriend and just want to drink to forget?"
"Plus they love their country. Don't forget the patriotism."
"You are talking about country music."
"Yeah. It would be great to hear that now."
"Don't be a fool. That's still 8 months off."
Love songs, of course, would be played in the weeks' leading up to Valentine's Day. Folk music would be played around Labor Day, the music of the working man.
Rock and roll - the music of release and anarchy - would be the music to kick off summer around Memorial Day.
I'll leave it to the reader to decide when we should play Sinatra and the jazz singers (leading up to that most grown up of seasons, tax season?), jazz instrumentalists (November when the leaves fall like Oscar Peterson's fingers on the keyboard?), reggae (August at the peak of summer vacations?) or classical music (March, when Bach was born?)
I did say that it made me wonder. I didn't say that the idea was wonderful.