We played Encore at FHE Monday night. That's the game where you have a word ("love," "time," "baby," etc.), and each team takes turns singing a line from a song that includes that word, until one team can't think of any more. I love this game, because it's kind of like a mini-karaoke party, and I like to see what songs come first to people's minds. Will even got me the Deluxe Encore board game edition for Christmas a few years ago.
It reminded me of a topic I had planned to blog about, back in the days when I was taking notes in anticipation of future blogging but didn't have this baby up and running yet.
Until a few weeks before I came to New York, I never owned an iPod or any of its offspring or competitors. I also rarely buy CDs, preferring the radio because I like to be pleasantly surprised when a good song comes on. Jukeboxes are great, but only when someone else pays.
However, I knew the work I would be doing out here would be incredibly isolated and monotonous, and knowing the alternative was being left alone with my thoughts, I figured I'd better get some tunes. I bought one of my brother Derek's old MP3 players (I think he had four at the time), subscribed to Rhapsody (your welcome, Lars Ullrich), and started loading up songs.
The first time I brought it to work with me, I selected "Play All," and was soon listening to 1500 or so songs in titular alphabetical order. It was great. I usually left the SanDisk (will Apple come after me if I call it an iSanDisk?) at work, but one night I was planning to add more songs, so I wore it out of the office. Big mistake.
As I walked toward the subway, Michael Jackson's "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" came on. It's a great song, and since I wasn't accustomed to listening to music while walking, my brain wasn't able to overcome my instincts.
I started strutting.
At least I think I did. After a minute I realized that I seemed to be walking differently. Nobody said anything to me (I probably only passed one or two people), and I couldn't see myself, so maybe it didn't look strange; but I was definitely, subconsciously trying to pull off a "cool walk." I'm guessing I was unsuccessful.
Speaking of that song, though...is there any non-article that starts more titles of great songs than "Don't?" We used that word at FHE, and it was the round that lasted longest. Just on my MP3 player, I've got that Michael song, "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey (who also produced one of the best music videos ever, plus Steve Perry has always reminded me of frequent blog commenter Shabba Shabba--sorry, Joey), "Don't Get Me Wrong" (I saw The Pretenders at my first concert, although the B-52s were admittedly the bigger draw for me at the time), "Don't You Want Me," a great Bill Clinton party song, "Don't You Forget About Me" (Simple Minds is a Scottish band! Yay!), "Don't Tell Me" (a mediocre Madonna song, but it's ok), and, of course, "Don't Stop Me Now," my favorite Queen song that doesn't involve David Bowie, and they were once my favorite band (I'm not sure who holds the top spot now--probably Huey Lewis and the News).
And there might even be more on there that I can't remember. Fortunately for my street safety, but unfortunately for my sanity at work, my player freaked out on me a few weeks after the strutting incident, so I can't rock out on the subway anymore.
Maybe someone has a walkman I can borrow.
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7 comments:
After reading about your favorite bands, I think you should change the title of your previous blog post to "40".
You need to own your walk when listening to music then everyone will know how cool you are.
you can borrow my sweet old school discman. i might even still have the super-chic behind-the-head headphones.
No you didn't, David! Oh snap! Aren't your favorite bands the Beastie Boys and the Village People, and didn't we just reminisce about karaoke-ing to Poison?
Tamara, people knowing how cool I am by watching me walk was exactly what I was worried about.
Thanks Rachel. If you could have Marcus bring it over that would be great. :-)
Aw, shucks, Jeff. I'm flattered.
Just so you know that my wife isn't flirting with you, I left the last comment. I just always forget to check if she's logged out, which she never is. Time for a companionship inventory.
Wait, that's a real game? I thought it was just a game that me and my friends just made that up when we were freshmen in college.
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