So I walked into this clothing store at a shopping center the other day, thinking I might buy a pair of blue jeans. It appeared to be a very conservative little shop because it had a very, very proper British name, Abercrombie & Fitch. Two steps inside, I found they didn't exactly have us Silver Citizen types in mind.

A mix of booming drums, guitars, rap singers and who-knows-what-else blasted from stereo speakers throughout the premises. My first impulse was to dive for cover. But, regaining my composure, I made my way to a nearby display of jeans. Oh-oh. For sure this was the wrong store for me. These weren't new jeans at all. Or were they? Holding up a pair, the knees were in shreds. There were tears in the legs. Back pockets were nearly ripped away. Instead of blue, they were faded to streaky white. Then the greatest shock. (This is a true story.) There was a price tag that said: $49.50.

"CAN I HELP YOU?" hollered a voice behind me. It was a clerk. "NO THANKS," I bellowed back trying to override the noise, err, the music. As I retreated toward the door, I passed a display of shirts and pants, all of them severely wrinkled. They apparently hire an army of people to sleep in all these clothes for several weeks before selling them. If my mother had found a pair of my jeans (which we called overalls) in such a ghastly condition in my room, she would have picked them up with a long stick and dropped them into the trash. And those were Great Depression years when clothing money was hard to come by.

But my subject today isn't about these new questionable fashion statements. It's about today's music as heard by those of us who've been around a half century or more. We've got to face the truth, folks. Finding music by the Big Bands and vocalists like Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Mel Torme and Judy Garland is becoming increasingly difficult, and there isn't much we can seem to do about it.

Checking a list of all the radio stations down in the Detroit/Windsor metropolitan area, I found 67 AM and FM stations. Only one station now features music from the Big Band era. It's a little 500-watt AM station in Windsor, CKWW (580 on the dial.) In the radio biz, the proper name for this type of music is "Adult Standards." Don't be fooled by stations describing themselves as an "oldies" station. They're likely talking about old rock numbers from "way back" in the '60s and '70s,

Flicking through the Internet last month, I stopped by the U.S.A. Today web site where you could cast your vote for the question of the day. It was inauguration day and the question was: "If you were the prez, which musical act would you ask to play at your inaugural ball? There were eight choices: Green Day, Eminem, Usher, No Doubt, U2, Modest Mouse, The Killers and Big & Rich. My immediate thought was: "What planet am I on? Who are these people?" (I seriously doubt that Prez George W. approved any of them.)

But let's see… who would YOU like to play for your inaugural celebration parties when you're elected president? I always liked Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey. Or how about Count Basie, Glen Miller, Harry James, Stan Kenton, Lionel Hampton, Benny Goodman, Hal Kemp, Bob Crosby and the Bobcats and Xavier Cugart? A lot of my friends loved Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians and Lawrence Welk and his Champaign Music.

Did you know that Lawrence Welk's first band was called the Hotsy-Totsy Boys? (Pretty catchy, huh?) And do you think that costume malfunction during last year's Super Bowl half-time entertainment was the first such incident? No sir. In 1959 Lawrence Welk was utterly shocked when his popular Champaign Lady, Alice Lon, showed up on camera wearing a dress that Lawrence considered disgracefully short. (It was just above the knees.) So she was fired. Fans by the thousands protested, but when Welk tried to hire her back, Alice refused. What a ruckus that was!

Wait, I just thought of something. None of these musicians will be available. All are long gone to that Big Band Concert Hall in the Sky. But you can still have them at your inaugural party. Just hire a disk jockey and play their CDs. Record stores still stock them, but sadly these stores seem to be assigning less and less counter space to these CDs.

Today's rock music lovers should know that bands of our generation had some crazy and "cool" names too. How about Shep Fields and His Rippling Rhythm, Spike Jones and His City Slickers, Swing and Sway with Sammy Kaye, Bull Moose Jackson and His Buffalo Bearcats, Charlie Munson and the Queen City Stompers and Jelly Roll Morton and His Red Hot Peppers. Do you recall Phil Spitalny and His All-Girl Band, Kay Kyser and His College of Musical Knowledge and Woody Herman and the Herman Herd? Most bands had distinctive styles but all played music with words everyone could understand. We could sing, whistle or hum them-and still do.

Should today's rockers think we didn't have some "far-out" music back then, they should have heard a 1943 number that went like this: "Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey, a kiddley divey too, wouldn't you? … If the words sound queer and funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivey, sing mares eat oats, and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy… Oh, Marizy doats…" The Decca 78 rpm record was a sensation!

To preserve the image and dignity of your Presidential office, I would recommend that you not have "Mairzy Doats" played at your inauguration ball. For that matter, I'd also advise not showing up there in a pair of those $49.50 shredded and faded jeans - no matter how fashionable they may be.

Jim can be e-mailed at sponcom@ameritech.net.