My parents had an agreement that my dad was not to play Aqualung for me when I was small, because they knew I listened to lyrics and did not want to have to explain...um, the entire first half of the album, I think. (The angry theology was totally fine for discussion, but "Cross-Eyed Mary," for example, is not a song they wanted to explain to their 6-year-old.) Then I started playing the flute when I was 10, and Dad could no longer hold himself back. I was relieved to hear flute-playing that "isn't all nicey-nice twittery birds," as I described it at the time. We still had a few moments my mom didn't like with Tull lyrics: at 14, I solemnly explained to her that "Roll Yer Own" from Catfish Rising was about how much Ian Anderson liked burritos, but she knew full well I was yanking her chain. Also Dad got a death glare the first time she came home from work and heard me picking out the flute bits from Thick as a Brick.

My dad and I have nearly identical taste in music, and not just in the "he taught me"/nostalgia direction: he has liked almost all the new stuff I've played for him. So it's hard to say what I have from childhood nostalgia, because I got a lot of the stuff my dad and I listened to together as soon as I got a CD player. I should probably get a Gordon Lightfoot album out of childhood nostalgia, but I haven't gotten around to it yet.