Preset Buttons

The power of music to move our emotions is a known part of the human condition. Man has been listening to music since we created a drum with a hollowed out log, an animal skin and a stick. Through the centuries music has evolved. From Beethoven to The Beatles, from Louis Armstrong to ZZ Top there are myriad genres and artists for us as we find: comfort, escape, motivation, kinship…in the music we listen to and play.  For recent generations, and my peers in particular, it’s been rock & roll that has given us goose bumps. Starting with Elvis…to The Beatles, The Stones, Led Zeppelin, Elvis Costello, The Counting Crows and on and on we have been rocking and rolling.  From Bob Dylan to his son Jacob Dylan from Bryan Adams to Ryan Adams rock & roll has just “done it for us.” Over the years, I have figured out that I like singer-songwriters: Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen, James Taylor, Tom Petty, John Mellencamp, Bob Dylan. But this piece isn’t about those artists or that kind of music.

I’m driving to work one morning recently and “Low Rider” by War comes on the radio. As soon as I hear the cow bell, I jab at the preset buttons as I say, “I hate that song” to an empty car. Driving down Ben Sherman Hill towards school, I was thinking about other songs I REALLY hate. I thought we could have some fun with this, sort of a Kasey Kasum in reverse. Let's take some time to vent about stupid songs…Our Least Favorite Songs, our Bottom 40.

There’s a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote that’s appropriate here, “In order to truly feel and appreciate love, you have to feel and know hate.”  Actually, most of you won’t recognize this quote because I made it up.  Sounds pretty good though right? It does make sense that we need that foil, songs that we love vs. songs that we hate. You need that opposite, for comparison, the highs and then the lows. We go from “Let it Be” by The Beatles to “Get it On” by T. Rex (definitely on my least favs list). The Beatles classic is timeless, otherworldly and “Get it On?” Not so much.

There appears to be some commonalities with the songs in my Bottom 40. First of all they all suck, the lyrics are invariably stupid, nonsensical and usually repetitive. Often times the topic is bizarre, not exactly songworthy, something like an animal, or a car. Often times the musicians use things that aren’t even instruments, like the aforementioned cowbell. When I listen to Neil Young “Heart of Gold” there’s meaning there, when I listen to “Bang a Gong” I want to bang my head against the wall!  So after “Low Rider” and T Rex’s “Get it On”…in no particular order…

“Barracuda” by Heart. Sorry Pete Savino, I know I gave you a hard time about this song when we were kids but I couldn’t help it; even as a 12 year old I was a lyrics snob.  I mean, how could a musician waste time writing a song about a FISH? Or maybe it’s the Plymouth Barracuda?  Either way.  Bob Dylan was asking us, “How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man?” Paul Simon was writing, “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, and tenement halls.” And the Wilson Sisters are singing….”Oooooh, Barracuda.” Ooooooh, give me a break.

Sometimes songs are connected to painful memories, tough times in our lives. When we were playing little league for the Beverley Boys club, my father managed our team, The Hurricanes. One of the kids on our team was stabbed by his father during a domestic dispute. My dad took us to visit our friend in the hospital. Standing there with my father, who loved me very much, I could not fathom what would push a dad to stab his own son. As we were heading home that overcast day, sitting in the back seat of the Chrysler New Yorker, trying to wrap my brain around this family in turmoil, “Dance with Me” by Orleans comes on the radio. Staring out the window as we circled Park Circle, that song was haunting, painful. In 2013, if I hear that song, the confusion, the sadness of that day resurface. The early harmonies of “Dance with me, I want to be your partner can’t you see?” force me to change the station.

Disco? Don’t even get me started. It’s decades later, yet when I hear anything off of the Saturday Night Fever sound track…I am back in John Dewey High School, wearing my Disco Sucks t-shirt and Frankie Sylvestri, and his Bensonhurst goombahs are chasing me around the cafeteria threatening to throw me in a locker. Actually they did stuff me in a locker. It was pretty funny, as soon as I walked into the caf, all 100 pounds of me I heard, “Fucking Spinner, no way.” I took off but the chest hair mafia caught me down by the gym and stuffed me in a locker.  The sound of a whistle as one of the lead instruments makes me think of polyester shirts,  gold chains, Jordache jeans (which looked pretty good on Rosanne Cinamo). How can we listen to the Bee Gees?  God, even my son was incredulous, “Dad, that’s not a guy singing, I’ll bet you anything.”  Donna Summer gave us, “Last Dance” and I’m thinking, God I hope so. Maybe that Disco Sucks shirt still fits me?

This revulsion to certain songs might be genetic? It’s ingrained in the Spinners to hate stupid songs…when Nick was a toddler he loved “Blackbird” by the Beatles and “Hanging Around” by The Counting Crows would make him squeal in his car seat. There was one song that would make him arch his back in pain. When Raffi did his version of Harry Belafonte’s “Banana Boat Song, Nick would freak out. He loved every song on that Raffi tape, listening to “Baby Beluga” or “Down by the Bay”…Nick was a happy camper. As soon as he heard….”Daaaaaaaay O” Nick would throw a tantrum for the ages. Every time we listened to that album, we had to skip that song. Sometimes I would leave it on just to see him lose it. Funny stuff.

Sometimes I hate the band, the entire catalog of music. The guttural riffs, the hackneyed raunchy guitar of ZZ Top, does NOTHING for me. The lyrics are weak and every song sounds the same. She’s got Legs and she knows how to use them? Yeh, well I have fingers and I know how to change the station. I’ll never go crazy for a sharp dressed man.

For similar reasons, I hate Jethro Tull. I mean what’s with the fife or lyre or flute or whatever that thing is? It’s rock and roll.  And do any of us know what an Aqualung is anyway? Is this song about a superhero? A bong? Aqualung my friend won’t you go smoke more pot and play your freaking fife somewhere else just so I don’t have to listen to it.

My friends who are musicians, guys who actually play instruments, have a thing for Rush, Neil Peart on drums and Getty Lee’s vocals.  And my musician friends always talk down to me, like I’m not sophisticated enough to appreciate the guitar licks and drum solos. Puhleeze….they’re a second rate band for a reason. Today’s Tom Sawyer should go back to 1840’s Missouri with Mark Twain and dunk themselves in the Mississippi River for a good loooong soak.

Some songs we like initially, then they wind up on the list…I call this the Jersey Shore effect. Hanging out at DJ’s and Bar Anticipation in the 80’s every time I was there we had to hear Billy Idol cover the classic Mony Mony by Tommy James and the Shondells. Just the sound of that rhythmic clapping in the beginning gives me a hangover, I can’t listen to it ANYMORE…everyone shouting in unison…Get Laid, Get __________ed. It’s  enough already! The song is played!

I know some of the least favorite songs of friends. Right around 1984 or so, my buddy Stemmer picks me up in his Sentra for a night of partying on the Upper East Side. We were two Brooklyn boys, college age, heading into the big city, trying out our game with the prep school clientele of The Tumble Inn, Fitzpatricks and Pedros. As we hit the Prospect Expressway, John Waite’s “I Ain’t Missing You” comes on the radio and Steve, cobra-like, changes the station. I say, “Hey, I like that song,” and put it back to WPLJ. Steve’s next response is a little more emphatic, “I don’t like that song, leave it off.”  Sensing an exposed nerve, as only good friends can do,  I nudge, “Why Steve? Who does it remind you of? I bet I can guess.” We all have those songs, artists that remind us of an ex, call to mind a tough time in life, and we usually choose avoidance.

 

My list of songs I hate is not all that extensive because I genuinely love music. I have music on all the time (much to my wife’s chagrin) a variety of artists, depending on my mood. Diana Ross and the Supremes, perfect for doing chores.  James Taylor or 70’s light rock is perfect for a walk in the country. There’s no better après ski music than Van Morrison. Walking in the city I might listen to Nick Lowe or Elvis Costello. Actually, if I am walking in the Village it would have to be Dylan but you get the idea. The Eagles are perfect road trip music. Cleaning up my classroom at year’s end, I always listen to Tom Petty, “The Waiting is the hardest part.” Assuming most of you like music, just for fun, take a few minutes to share your least favorites. What songs make you change the station, or give the Thumbs Down on Pandora?