Whenever she had money to spare, Stacey Combs went back for more work on an elaborate, multi-colored tattoo that stretches from her elbow to her shoulder. It took four years, but it's finally finished: a cartoon version of the "Yellow Submarine"-era Beatles, circa 1968.
Why would the 26-year-old want a permanent homage to a band that broke up almost 20 years before she was born?
"The Beatles will never make a bad album," the Minneapolis hairstylist said as she gestured to a speaker overhead pumping contemporary music into the salon where she works. "Robots singing. Auto-Tuned," she said dismissively. "The Beatles were real."
Spend some time in any campus coffeehouse or bar, and you might find yourself wondering what year it is.
The music playing in these millennial hangouts often is from the late 1960s through the mid '70s and includes bands with long-dead members: the Doors, Led Zeppelin, the Grateful Dead.
Young adults have been picking their own playlists most of their lives. And while they have a deep interest in new music, many also are taking ownership of the iconic music of their parents and, in some cases, their grandparents.
But the same soundtrack that annoyed the moms and dads of baby boomers is a bonding factor between them and their offspring.
"If you look at the phenomenon, it speaks to millennials and their parents being best friends," said Mary Meehan, founder and CEO of Panoramix Global, a Minneapolis-based consumer research firm. "Authenticity is such an important value for this generation, and they can hear it in the old music. They are very sensitive about what brands stand for, and this still feels real."