In my formative years, I had a amount of tremendous respect for my sister. She was infallible. Because of this, she had a huge impact on my music taste.
My sister and I both grew up in the back half of the 90s, clinging to "Saved by the Bell" reruns and witnessing the undisputed golden age of Nickelodeon.
Some albums define a generation – The Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” forever changed pop, Nirvana’s “Nevermind” ushered in the era of grunge. For those of us caught in between the Millennials and Gen Z, albums like Britney Spears’ “Oops!... I Did It Again” and *NSYNC’s “No Strings Attached” lived in our chunky Insignia Portable CD players.
Cut to middle school, aka the Dark Ages. In the 7th grade, I turned 13. Sure, I had braces and glasses that were too small for my face but, dammit, I was a man in the eyes of Jewish God.
While my mom spent days planning for an extravagant after party, I trained for my bar mitzvah by hitting the books, specifically, the Torah. Then, the big day arrived.