"Out with the truckers and the kicker and the angel cowboys!"
Max Worley, attempting to sing along to Gram Parson's "Return of the Grievous Angel"

Small children don't like long car rides. If they're not asleep, they're whiny. Even a child as verbal as my son Max gets bored with conversation after a while.

The only sure cure for the fidgets and whines and outright screams is music. To be more specific, songs, as most children have a limited tolerance for jazz or classical music if they're strapped down. I'd heard tales of hours-long renditions of "B-I-N-G-O" and "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" or simply recycling Raffi tapes over and over again. Thank goodness my kids are, well, my kids.

Returning from an impromptu visit to my wife's parents (her assignment last Friday was to write about a mayoral election near their town, so we all went along and stayed for the weekend), Max and Sam decided not to sleep. Max, who is three, mostly complained: "I don't want to go to sleep. I'm not tired. I don't need a nap. Hey, can I have some peanut butter crackers?" Sam, who will turn 11 months tomorrow, communicated as forcefully as he could: he screamed. This, in turn, set Max to screaming. With three-and-a-half hours of driving ahead of us, we needed a quick solution. And Barbara had one.

"Better find the Descendents," Barbara told me. I flipped through the CD case. Bad Religion...the Methadones...Green Day...ah yes, the Descendents. Cool to Be You, to be specific. Starts off fast and loud and vaguely tuneful, and Sam immediately calmed down. Max started sucking his thumb and within five minutes both were snoozing.

Max can name three songs: "Jingle Bells," "Hey Ho!" (his name for "Blitzkrieg Bop") and "The Everywhere Song" (more commonly known as Johnny Cash's rendition of "I've Been Everywhere"). He's one of three three-year-old Ramones connoisseurs in our neighborhood, but as far as I know, he's the only one with a Johnny Cash jones. And when he hears Johnny, he lets everyone know.

"Hey, that's Johnny Cash," he'll say, and then he'll announce whether or not he's heard that particular songs before. If he has, he'll sit back, suck his thumb and kinda rock in time to the music. If he hasn't, his face takes on a somewhat concerned look--which is merely his way of concentrating on what he's hearing so that next time he can say "...and I like this song because I heard it before." He's a big fan of the Rick Rubin albums--exceptionally produced to give Cash's voice a resonance he achieved only occasionally during his long career. But he also likes the jumpier old stuff. Everything from "Hey, Porter" to "Cocaine Blues" is alright by him. He's not so sure about songs like "Nobody Knows But Me," but give him time. He's only three.

Max was more of a death metal baby--but he also like Coltrane. He doesn't like any of that stuff any more...cognitive dissonance isn't his thing, and he's rather sensitive to loud noises, so his punk music can't be played too loud. This kinda takes all the charm out of bands like Black Flag (another early favorite), but that's how it goes.

Sam has always been interested in melody. The first album he ever expressed an obvious affection for was Green Day's American Idiot. As soon as the opening riff blasts out, he starts clapping his hands. He's also a big Bad Religion fan, but interestingly, he is most prone to clapping in time to acoustic tunes. Which leads back to those Rick Rubin-Johnny Cash albums.

After four trips through Cool to Be You, the boys had woken up and were in need of a different fix. So I dropped in Unchained (which closes with the aforementioned "I've Been Everywhere") and let that cycle a couple times through until we got home. Both guys got a little antsy now and again, but mostly they laughed and smiled. Music is a wonderful thing.

Now, I know some parents who actually like "children's music" and nod and groove to what I consider to be somnambulistic pabulum. Hey, there are lots of Dave Matthews fans wandering the streets as well. That's just not my bag. And lucky for me, my boys are more than willing to jam along in the back seat to whatever I might play.

Even if I do drop a little Coltrane in there now and again.

Jon Worley went deep into the Parliament last week. Max particularly liked "Flashlight" and kept asking to go home so that he could use his own.