During Enzo's time in the womb, Melissa and I logged a rather impressive list of live gigs about the country. Most were the smallish, indie shows that provide most of the day-to-day cacophony of amplified tunes in our household -- mostly shit without a beat and throngs of lead guitar. However, occasionally, we like to swag out -- and this is where Enzo really finds his impulses.
Last year, one of Enzo's final subtegulaneous shows from the front porch of Melissa's womb was Kanye West at the Austin City Limits festival. It was a show that removes all doubt about the magnitude of talent that Kanye can really project, particularly if two things: 1) You're expectations are erroneously low, and 2) You can remove whatever distorted biases you may have about the dude.
Kanye is one fucking hell of a performer. Mommy and Daddy enjoyed the shit out of it. And the little, unborn progeny appeared to as well, because ...
... this was Enzo's first favorite song -- at least by my judgement.
This happens to be Track One of his very first music collectible: Rockabye Baby Lullaby Renditions of Kanye West. Melissa and I picked it up as a gift to our boy in celebration for seeing his 3-D image for the first time -- and this event having just been on the euphoric heels of that Kanye show, we thought that it all made some sort of transcendental sense. I guess it did. In his first weeks of life, Enzo found the perfect configuration of muscles that made him appear to be just totally delighted when Track One played ... *Good Morning OOooooOOOoooooOOOOOoooo Oooaaaahhhhhhhh (*except in xylophones).
As you would expect, he happily transitioned to the full, lyrical version in the following months -- and from the opening glottalizations of the track, you can really observe Enzo's musical recall at work. Seeing your son define his musical palate before your eyes is a pretty special event -- even if its in favor of an admonished artist.
The second song, Hey Mama, is what I refer to as Enzo's "safety song". What that means is, when those opening chords of Good Morning aren't doing the trick to calm his little-boy nerves, singing the refrain from this jam is the singular penetrable force for snivels and wriths. Sometimes, Melissa and I like to change it up to "Heeey Enzo". Then its REALLY lights-out. That is the levity of parenthood. Pretty creative, huh?
Overall, we think that our son has great taste so far. Its something that we want to remember forever how he had immediate approval for beats so clever and lyrics so rappy.
And sure, there is still plenty of time for him to become endeared to my sad-bastard, guitar schlock.
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