Friday Jams

Nom.

I got a lot from my parents. Shelter, food, love and support, an inexplicable love of Velveeta, a sense of humor that relies heavily on teasing. "We tease because we love," my mom would say when I was growing up. Apparently unaware of the tenuous social standing I held at age 13, she'd lean out of the car after dropping me off at my junior high: "Have a good day, Pookie Bear!! I looooove yoouuuuuuu!" Oh. Dear. God.

Beyond a thick skin, perhaps the most tangible thing I inherited from my parents was their insatiable love of music. I grew up listening to Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, the Doors, Pearl Jam, Jimi Hendrix. Primus and Blind Melon and Dave Matthews and James Brown and Jamiroquai and Smashing Pumpkins and Phish. It was an eclectic bag, but it was the music I knew. I'd walk around at age three singing "Bag it, tag, it takeitotheboerandohohohoh" -- much like this kid, actually. My first concert was Blues Traveler at age four, and my mom spent a good chunk of my toddlerhood following around the Grateful Dead on tour. That's where she met my stepdad, actually -- on a road trip to a show. Almost 20 years later, they're still together. (D'awwwww.)

Thanks for bringing them together, Jerry!

Eventually I rebelled, music-wise. I brought Spice Girls and boy bands into our home, and things got tense for awhile. I remember once, I was about 10, singing along to some Spice Girls lyrics in the backseat. My mother turned around to look at me, incredulous.

"What are you saying?"

"It's a song, Mom. It's called 'When Two Become One.' It's awesome, it's the Spice Girls!"

She stared at me, perplexed. Then she slowly and silently turned back around. Years later, I finally understood the lyrics, and her horror.

Not that her music was innocent. Curtis Mayfield and Jim Morrison and Patti Smith weren't exactly celibate, drug-free saints. But the thing I was missing in my youth was an appreciation of why my parents (particularly my mother) liked the music they did: It was well-done. Well-produced. Smart, or innovative, or completely original. But most of all, it sounded just as good or better live than it did on an album. Real music cred, real musicians. Most of what I listened to between the ages of 12 and 22 would not fit that criteria. (Sorry, Britney.)

I only get to visit my parents once or twice a year, so each time I go home, I load up on new music. On the most recent trip last month I acquired an immediate obsession with the defunct Chicago band Soul Coughing; before that, it was Keller Williams (who I'm seeing live for the second time next month at the Park West). The Spice Girls and BSB still have a place on my iPod, but now they're relegated to nostalgia.

I won't give up Kelly Clarkson though. She's for real.

Sing it, girl.

My parents, for their part, have continued to evolve in their musical tastes and endeavors. They persist in finding and re-finding bands from every decade; my mom has been on a Jack White binge lately, which I take credit for. (See? It goes both ways!) They probably wouldn't be crushed if most of the 1980's fell into a black hole, though.

A few years ago my parents got it into their heads that they'd be great a running a radio station because, well, they'd probably be great at running a radio station. Especially in Hilo, Hawaii, where most of the FM radio stations are absolute crap. (Sorry, 808 readers, but it's true.) They started organizing and editing their musical collection, digitizing the hundreds of hours of CD music and getting it ready for broadcast. For awhile they maintained an online streaming radio station called Gecko Rock, but that project fizzled after a some months of just a few (but devoted) listeners here and there.

Around the same time, the dreaded happened: My parents joined Facebook. I didn't really mind, but the constant barrage of my mom's Mafia Wars notifications and Dan's links to music videos on YouTube grew tiring, so I pretty much ignored them.

Then something weird happened. They created a new Facebook profile called "Friday Jams" and invited me to be its friend. It turns out there were so many friends posting videos on Dan's wall (in reaction to the 10 videos per hour he'd post himself) that they decided to move it to a separate account dedicated just to music videos. Now with around 100 friends, a solid fifth of whom post regularly, Friday Jams is buzzing almost 24 hours a day with music videos.

Screen shot.

My mom describes it as the best market research for a radio station in history. You post a song and then people post songs related to it; it's an "Oh you like that band? Try this!" method. And it works. Their library has grown exponentially, along with their dreams of running an actual FM station.

The original concept of Friday Jams was that a theme would be posted every Friday - colors, cities, "sticky stuff," jam videos, and the like -- and people could post their hearts out, "like" each others' music, and so forth. But soon people were grumbling that the theme was stale by Monday night, so a new mid-week theme has become a regular feature.

Bring some music and a sense of humor and you'll find a community that welcomes all music tastes with open arms. A favorite theme was "food fight," posted on Thanksgiving. After they ran out of food songs, people started throwing plates and knives and forks. In general, when people get sick of the theme, they'll start threatening to post videos of the Muppets.

What kills me about this whole thing is that my parents -- members of a generation that use Facebook completely differently than mine, and who came after us -- have managed to find a whole new purpose for the number one social networking site. A few individual souls have found their way to Friday Jams on their own, but for the most part my parents invited their friends, who invited their friends, who invited their friends. I friend-suggested John Popper, the front man of Blues Traveler, who accepted the invitation but has yet to post a video. (And I doubt he ever will, but isn't that cool?!)

I really love Blues Traveler.

Friday Jams is the next iteration, the interactive version, of Pandora. And you don't have to pay for it. Whether or not an FM station results, it's absolute genius, for users and founders alike.

And hey, it's Friday! Today's theme? Chicago! Don't worry, I've already covered the Blues Brothers and Kanye and OK Go. If you've got something to add, or if you want to glance in on the fun, check out the phenomenon here.

And don't feel obligated to accept if my mom Facebook friends you. Seriously, the Mafia Wars thing is really annoying.

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UPDATE, 1:31 pm: My mom pointed out that there is a picture from the trip on which she and Dan met. Check it out:

Bunch of hippies. Mom's in the red dress, Dan is fourth from the right, and I'm...noticeably younger.