The deeper I get into this little exercise the more I recognize that there aren’t distinct epochs inherent to one’s own musical soundtrack. The development of musical taste isn’t a linear continuum where the Beatleassic is followed by the Frampticene. It’s more of a primordial ooze where evolutionary experiments sometimes lead to abominations and others reap mastodons. Never trust the music geek who swears his musical double helix begins and ends with something cool. He’s lying, or at the very least he’s rewriting his history. Somewhere in that dude’s past he cut a Bobby Sherman record off of a box of Alpha-Bits, or he begged his mother to buy a Bay City Rollers record after he saw the plaid ones on The Krofft Superstar Hour.