What snapped me out of my rut was the music video. The first one I recall was "I Don't Like Mondays" by the Boomtown Rats. The song came out in 1979, I assume the video was made the same year. What I don't remember is when and how I happened to see it. It must have been before MTV began in 1981, or, at least, before my cable system carried MTV. Anyway, I knew immediately I had seen music's future.

My guess is I saw it on the USA Network, which for sure would later introduce me to England's Kate Bush. USA went through a period when the network got a lot of mileage out of a documentary-like film that included music videos by a singer previously unknown to me. I was fascinated, not only by Bush's beauty and her wonderful voice, but by the weirdness of it all, especially a song called "Running Up That Hill."

Turns out that Kate Bush was a huge star in England and one of the most influential performers on the planet. I believe the headset microphone, now used by touring performers everywhere, was created for Kate Bush, who had to move freely about the stage during her shows. Previously singers pretty much stood in front of a microphone and sang. A dance troupe was not required. Bush was constantly on the move, sometimes looking like a singing contortionist.

I was not so intrigued by performance artist Laurie Anderson, whose shows also were presented several times on USA. Both Bush and Anderson are pretentious in the extreme, but I found Bush to be entertainingly so.

SO I'M AN UNABASHED fan of music videos. I was disappointed when MTV pushed them aside for its dreary reality programming. However, my cable system carries four channels that rely heavily on music videos. I, too, rely on them – to rescue me during commercial breaks in the programs I watch on other channels. A video or two entertains me until my program resumes (if I can remember what program I was watching).

When I find a song I like, I make a note to purchase it online. Then I create my own albums. You probably do it, too. Well, we have to because pre-packaged albums have become a poor investment. A couple of listenable songs mixed in with eight or nine clunkers, just like the old days. Too many artists write their own songs. In the process most of them prove they are dreadful composers with nothing to say. Also, you've heard about the all-important "hook" needed to sell a pop song. Songwriters, when they think they have found their "hook," run it into the ground.

So today I have fewer expectations of musical artists, but, oddly, more musical favorites than ever. For that I thank those cable channels that play music videos. Those channels are divided between pop and country music, though one of the country channels –CMT – has a program called "Wide Open Country" which features a broad selection of music. There's also a Gospel channel that features a surprising range of music. It was on "Wide Open Country" that I was introduced to Brandi Carlile, whom I consider a favorite, though I'm familiar with only three of her songs, "That Year," "The Story" and "Turpentine." That's how it goes these days, I may never hear anything of hers that I don't like, though I risk cutting myself off from some of her music that may be even better than what is being played by the media.

A few years ago, CMT introduced me to singer K. T. Tunstall via her video for "Big Black Horse and the Cherry Tree." A weird, but wonderful song that eventually crossed over and became a big hit. So I went out and bought Tunstall's album – and suffered the all-too-common disappointment. I think there was one other decent song on the cd, but can't remember what it was. So now I prefer the risk-free approach to my music purchases.

It was through their videos that Aerosmith impressed me after I had previously dismissed the group – and particularly their singer, Steven Tyler – as Rolling Stone wannabes. Now I think Aerosmith became better than The Stones. Other groups I turned to late in their brief careers were The Cars and Devo, understandable preferences, I guess, now that I see how I've always been a sucker for music delivered with a pounding beat and a sly wink.

OTHER MUSICAL influences are my children, though my son, with two young boys of his own, has other things on his mind these days. From daughter Laura came my appreciation of Nellie Furtado and Keith Urban. Laura, daughter Meridith and I simultaneously discovered Amy Winehouse and have been tsk-tsk-tsking over her messed up life ever since. Talk about a waste of talent.

It was Meridith who bought cds by Poe and Fiona Apple, and I had to buy my own because I couldn't count on finding them in her room. (She had a habit of scattering them all over the place, seldom returned to their plastic container, or, at least, not to the correct container. "Looking for Poe? Her cd is in the Dave Mathews case.") Anyway, Apple may have been a one-cd wonder. Poe at least has gone her one better.

In 2000, Poe – real name Annie Decatur Danielewski - released her second album, one of my favorites, "Haunted," but the singer has done nothing since. She remains a mystery to me – I've never seen her in a video or on any television show – which for awhile had me thinking she must be a character created by someone who wants to remain anonymous. (To me her voice sounds like it could belong to Sharon Stone, if Sharon Stone could sing.) I was so carried away by "Haunted" that I did something I'd never done before – I bought an extra copy and sent it to my sister, who, probably wondered what the hell I was thinking.

SOMETIMES I wonder what the hell I'm thinking, too, like when I linger on a channel to watch a video by Lady Gaga. Trust me, it has nothing to do with her vulgar attempts to be sexy. Gaga really doesn't seem all that attractive, especially when she wears one of Cher's hand-me-downs. However, during her video for "Bad Romance" there were brief flashes when she looked terrific and I began to wonder if Lady Gaga is just a name being shared by three or four entertainers.

In a weird way – okay, a very weird way – what I find entertaining about Lady Gaga can be traced to my days as drum major for the Intermediate School and Solvay High School bands. That is, a big beat, precision of movement, and an appreciation of march music, John Philip Sousa, and all that.

I've always had a weakness for school bands and I wish TV still covered them at halftime of football games rather than switch back to talking heads who analyze the obvious and show the same "highlight"clips over and over. My son, Jeff, was in the Cranston (RI) West High School band, whose performances were often the only reason people attended a football game. But I digress . . .

So what's this got to do with Lady Gaga (real name Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta)? Well, it goes like this: In my mind, perhaps going back to a 1950s choreograper named Hugh Lambert, a lot of dance troupes began to resemble drill teams. I thought about it during the drivel that followed the death of Michael Jackson, who, in my mind, was not a particularly good dancer, though he was regarded as such. Think about it this way – Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly could easily do everything that Jackson did, but Jackson couldn't do more than a few of the steps that Astaire and Kelly had mastered. The much-maligned Paula Abdul is a better dancer than Jackson ever was.

That's not to say I didn't enjoy some of Jackson's videos as well as a few featuring his sister, Janet. But . . . well, go back even further to a dance troupe called The Lockers who featured Toni Basil. I once saw them as the opening act for a Frank Sinatra concert. True. A few years later Basil turned singer-dancer and hit it big with a song (and video) called "Mickey," about a boy who was so fine that he'd blow your mind. Basil performed it in a cheerleading outfit backed by a cheerleading squad that included a couple of women built like linebackers. They moved like a drill team to the heavy beat of some drums.

Enter Gwen Stefani, a favorite ever since my daughter Meridith introduced me to No Doubt, the group that launched Stefani's career. I really enjoy her work, but what endeared her to me was a candid interview she gave several years ago about how difficult it was to write songs for yourself, especially given the pressure to fill your next album. She has since had only so-so results, including "Hollaback Girl," which may be a dreadful song, but I loved the video, which was done with a marching band and cheerleaders. (I don't know what Stefani is up to these days. I haven't seen any of her videos in several months.)

Lady Gaga doesn't work with a marching band, but her videos are heavy on a beat with her and her "dancers" making repetitious, mechanical movements. She also has a flair for catchy melodies, though what's most noticable is her effort to shock and create controversy. Her "Love Game," which flaunts the line "I'd love to take a ride on your disco stick," owes much to Michael Jackson, who popularized the crotch grab. Lady Gaga goes way beyond Jackson, but this video, which features several robotic males, reinforces my belief that today's choreographers take their inspiration from drill teams and cheerleading squads. I'm not complaining; I enjoyed The Hugh Lambert Dancers back in the '50s or '60s; I enjoy drill teams; my favorite scene in "Stripes" was the basic training graduation ceremony when Bill Murray led his Army unit through an unorthodox drill routine.

(Gaga continues to push her luck and whatever standards – if any – that guide MTV. Her "Telephone" video with Beyonce is as stupid as it is tasteless. And her "Alejandro" video is embarrassing for several reasons, but primarily because I first heard the song many years ago when my phonograph needle got stuck on ABBA's "Fernando." I suspect Gaga will soon drop out of sight, at least until she re-invents herself, perhaps as a candidate for governor of New York.)

I can't overlook Madonna, who helped pave the way for Gaga and Stefani, though I regard Kate Bush as the woman who started it all. I did enjoy some of Madonna's music, especially the video for "Material Girl," which provided the singer with a nickname she still can't shake. However, at this point I'd like it if Madonna went quietly into retirement.

FINALLY, there's one group out there that brings me full circle, right back to the beginning of this piece, to my son, Jeff, and my daughter-in-law, Elyse.

Jeff grew up with an interest in music and filmmaking. He played trumpet, then agreed to play tuba in the high school band, though he wished he had started – and stayed – with drums. He and a friend, Rich Orabone, wrote music and made an album. When Jeff got married he and Elyse made some charming and funny video shorts.

Sometime in 2008 I had my first look at a music video that looked and sounded like something that would have been done by Jeff and Elyse, he on drums, she on the vocal. Instead it was Jules DeMartino on drums, Katie White doing the singsong vocal on a piece called "Great DJ," in which the lyrics disintegrate into two words, "the drums," that are repeated about twenty times.

This English duo is called The Ting Tings. I won't try to categorize what they do, but I'm reminded of that old theory about how all the great novels could be written by an infinite number of monkeys at an infinite number of typewriters. White and DeMartino must have been clowning around one day and accidentally hit upon the sound that is now serving them well.

I don't foresee a long career for The Ting Tings, but they've already shown they are more than one-hit wonders. I love their biggest hit, "That's Not My Name," though I'll never be able to watch or listen to them without thinking . . . you know, that could have been my son and daughter-in-law