I’m not normally someone to let out emotional responses except for when I get excited (insert facial expressions and silent yelling). There’s something so obvious about someone who’s starstruck, paralyzed as they see or meet their heroes.

I saw Ratatat just before my freshman year at Michigan State University. The duo seemed so animated. It was beyond belief. Their first show in Michigan after what felt like an indefinite five year hiatus, I was stoked to see the artists that kickstarted music for me in middle school. It may seem lame to bring your dad to a show, but concerts in Detroit were a shining moment of my suburban boy contract. Since my dad remembered the tough punk scene, he thought I’d get myself killed, and came along.

Spitballing from our conversation about what rock n’ roll meant in the car ride to the city I got to have the best exposition into lead guitarist, Mike Stroud’s influences and definite heroes of the guitar world. To run with that Tony Iommi factoid about his mechanical accident and metal fingertips, gracefully primed by my dad, I figured out that we’re all just kind of fans of music and that even those that we put at such high esteem could get a bit giddy. Bottom line: Dad rock wisdom can always come in handy and Mike’s a pretty cool guy.