Speak for yourself! My tastes haven't changed in 30 years.
I was on the way to church with my kids a few weeks ago. Clad, as I usually am on such occasions, in Great-Grandmama's pearls and a very sedate silk dress Great-Grandmama would have approved of. We were listening to some rather accessible baroque music, and when it ended I began punching the buttons on the car radio. By accident I came across Clapton singing "Layla." I started singing along with Derek and the Dominos at the top of my lungs, because I never forget a lyric. My kids were horrified. Who was this screaming madwoman? They thought their mommy was this gentle Christian lady who always speaks in a soft voice and goes to art museums and historic houses. Now, though, Mommy is humiliating them by displaying that she not only knows all the lyrics to this rock song, but is willing to crank up the volume, open the windows, and show the world why her car has subwoofers. They hunched down out of fear someone would see them in the car with a crazy woman.