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...I ask as the 14 year old in the car seat next to me belts out Toto.

This song is from the year I was born, dweeb. Hands off.

And in that moment of possessiveness I realise - it’s happening. I’m begrudging The Yoof.

Watching my bro, eyes closed and face upturned to the African rain, I witness cultural recycling in action.

The next generation. They grab dead bits from the past – music, media, fashion – claim them, dance with them like a deranged Frankenstein. Like they bloody invented vinyl and animated it with lightning or something.

Is this why oldies are bitter? Their hard work and innovation hijacked by frivolous young whips?

But haven’t I done it too?

Waggled fingertips, tracing the Grease Lightning wave – 20 years too late.

Felt nostalgic about flares and legal firecrackers and the first four chords of Hey Jude.

Yelled I Was Only 19 in memory of a memory I wasn’t even alive to experience.

Yep. Yes. Guilty.

So I get over myself and into the tune, adding a quivering harmony on the key change.

And come to realise – sharing keeps the good shit alive.

Like passing down traditions, rituals, rain dances… relinquishing ownership of our song and letting it be theirs too, makes for a rollicking duet.

Dear little brother, you have my blessing. Enjoy Toto. (But know that no amount of modern cool-i-fication makes them any less tragic).

Whaddyareckon? Have you had a moment of disbelief when a band, trend or movie suddenly becomes cool again? Are you a bit bitter? Go on, fess up!