So in my dull wit I made a joke a few weeks ago on some other social media site(s) about having the misfortune of hearing “Breakfast At Tiffany’s” twice in one year.  It was a fairly innocuous comment, but buried in a sliver of personal truth, because I really, really, really hate that song. Really.

There’s nothing especially egregious about it, I mean it’s not like its horribly constructed or celebrates the glory of pedophilia or urges kids to assault baby seals after illegally parking in handicapped spaces, it’s just that it is/was a piece of mainstream alterna-pop pablum that was my personal whipping boy for everything wrong with middle-class, white bread America.  In my mind, it was for people that watched the sitcom Friends. I hate Friends. Shit, maybe I hate non-italicized friends too. 

Rather than delve into my personal past, which is kind of insignificant and pretty predictable (AKA: I hated everything but Bob Dylan and Lou Reed from the years 1994-1999), I wanted to comment on the fact that people have shyte memories.  Let’s face it, many of us are natural-born complainers, and that includes wailing away on the travesty of radio programming.  It doesn’t matter what’s on, we wish it were something else.  There are some exceptions to this, of course, like people who legitimately like everything they hear, in which case we can also become natural-born murderers, but among my peers I have noticed that many who grew up among the “alternative revolution” have been having a hard time of things lately. They are now surrounded by loads of new EDM, hip-hop, gnu-folk, and countless other bands and genres that have started taking up serious air-time in addition to the typical mainstream pop that has been the traditional nemesis. In essence: they’re feeling very scared and lonely, and SOMEBODY NEEDS TO PAY, DAMMIT!

Of course, in conjunction with being natural-born complainers, we also have amazing gifts for epic nostalgia, with some seriously thick rose-coloured glasses, which results in severe cases of misremembering. When caught in a 45-minute snooze fest of James Blake, Mumford & Sons, obscure blog rock, DJ Unpronounceable, and the latest withering sounds from yet another bedroom producer straight from the Czech underground, it’s easy to say, “This sucks! Back in the 90s….blah blah blah Nirvana blah blah Smashing Pumpkins blah blah Alice In Chains blah blah blah bitch moan curse weep [off]”. And then we sit in silence for the rest of the awkward car ride home.

But here’s the thing: Nirvana wasn’t on the dial 24/7.  As soon as it came out, it was surrounded by a swarm of grunge-lite acts that seemed to get just as much, if not more, air-time as the few heroes & saviors who we remember fondly and without malice.  For every Nirvana, there were 10 Deep Blue Somethings.  Remember American Hi-Fi? No? Good for you, because I hated them from first listen so passionately it has wrapped itself around the double helix of my DNA and will probably haunt me to my grave.

And this says nothing of those many, many bad songs we secretly liked, or the “great” bands we secretly loathed.  Alice In Chains? Yeah, not a fan. Same goes for Soundgarden. Call me crazy, call me any name in the book, I do not care in the least.  We all have our lines, as insane and illogical as they might be. 

So of course last night, as I’m watching the tennis here on the couch here in Australia (shut up, it only happens for 4 weeks of the year), lazily strumming my guitar and jotting a few lines down, I get the following text from one of my students (a lovely young man with heaps of enthusiasm for the instrument)


Of course I had to laugh.  Yes, I will teach him the song, and maybe, just maybe, because we will be listening to it countless times over for 30+ minutes I will learn to hate it a little less.

But it’s not looking likely.

Since I have to suffer, I thought you might as well too.  Below are 4 music videos.  I loathe 2 of them, I adore 1 of them, while the other is a secret like that makes me hate myself for liking it.  I will let you figure out which is which. 

Anyone else notice they all have the same blonde/dishwater pretty boy for a lead singer, cheekbones from here until Siberia?

That’s enough bitching & moaning from me for one day. Have a very happy New Year! Holler back if it’s been a while? I do love hearing from you, wherever you are in the world. More music to come in 2014, but for now, stay safe and hang on to the ones you love.




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