Music has a funny way of transporting you back in time. I was reminded of this recently, not in a vintage record store, but in the most unexpected of places: the Penn State bookstore. Trying to wrestle with an overdue paper and fueled by a grande green tea, my focus completely evaporated when the opening bars of Bobby Brown’s 1988 hit, “Every Little Step,” filled the air. In a sea of students likely plugged into more contemporary sounds, I was instantly hooked, nodding my head to the beat and mouthing every lyric of this classic jam. The 90s vibes intensified as Michael Jackson’s “Black or White” followed, turning the bookstore into a nostalgic dance floor in my mind, much to the amusement (and slight bewilderment) of those around me. Leaving my 90s-infused study session, I couldn’t help but reflect on my deep-rooted love for old school music mixes and the experiences they soundtrack.
Growing up, I was lucky enough to have parents who cultivated my musical palate with the smooth sounds of jazz and soulful R&B. Our home was constantly filled with what they called “real music,” and those melodies became ingrained in my very being. While I might not have actually been cruising down the street in my ’64 like Easy-E, every car journey of my childhood was a vibrant musical adventure. Forget nursery rhymes; my earliest car ride memories are filled with the iconic sounds of Motown, the soaring vocals of Whitney Houston, the smooth harmonies of Anita Baker and Luther Vandross, the genius of Stevie Wonder, the cool sophistication of Sade, and the romantic ballads of Babyface.
From quick trips around the block to epic cross-country road trips, my parents ensured we were always accompanied by the perfect soundtrack. Whether it was belting out “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” by Whitney Houston or harmonizing to Brian McKnight’s “Back at One,” music made every drive a memorable sing-along. I even surprised my family at a reunion by knowing every word to Montell Jordan’s “This is How We Do It,” proving I was a true product of the 90s music scene.
The late 90s paved the way for another golden era of music in the early 2000s. From pop princesses like Christina Aguilera and Alicia Keys to genre-bending groups like Outkast and boy band sensations like NSYNC, elementary school playlists were epic. While classics like Boys II Men and Notorious B.I.G. still held a place, teenage pop and boy bands dominated the airwaves. I fondly remember owning a Hit Clip, proudly showcasing snippets of Destiny’s Child, Jesse McCartney, and Aaron Carter. In kindergarten, my prized possession was a bright pink CD player, always loaded with my Britney Spears CD, ready to blast “Oops… I Did It Again” at a moment’s notice.
Fast forward to today, and you’ll likely find me still jamming to Usher and Justin Timberlake in my car. Whether I’m picking up friends or just running errands, my car becomes a concert hall filled with Mariah Carey’s stratospheric notes in “Emotions” or Ne-Yo’s smooth R&B anthem, “Miss Independent.” Maybe I’m stuck in the good old days, but my playlists are consistently filled with Akon, Mario, and T-Pain (and let’s be honest, who didn’t love “Buy You A Drank”?). While I appreciate the contemporary sounds of Future, Drake, and the current Billboard Top 100, my heart will always belong to the 90s and 2000s R&B and pop anthems.
Even now, when I’m back in the car with my parents, music remains a central part of our shared experience. My dad and I might find ourselves singing along to Charlie Wilson or Rihanna and Jay-Z’s “Umbrella,” while my mom and I jokingly mimic Janet Jackson’s background dancers from her iconic “Rhythm Nation” video. Perhaps we are just old school at heart, or maybe we simply recognize and appreciate timeless music. Either way, car rides with my family are always soundtracked by these old school jams.
As time marches on and songs that once topped the charts become relegated to Throwback Thursday posts, I’m constantly reminded of the simple, pure joy that music provides. Whether I’m actually cruising down the street with the soulful sounds of Gladys Knight filling my ears or seeking refuge in a coffee shop with headphones on, immersing myself in music remains one of my greatest pleasures. And that, like my favorite old school tracks, is a feeling that will never get old.
