Cutting a floor mat

Given the schedule I described yesterday, you can imagine we’re spending a lot more time in the car. Which means a lot more time listening to the radio.

About a week ago, Ivy and I were talking about learning violin, and I said I wanted my guardian to teach me in  Heaven. She made a remark about how much an angel must love to hear those first squeaky sounds, and I replied that the worst part was, the angel got to hear them anyhow, no matter who taught me.

Laughs abounded.

Later that day, as I was driving, I had the misfortune to hear the Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me Baby,” on which I’m sad to say I spent many a listening hour back when I was ten years old (learning violin, in fact!) and that was the coolest song ever. I must have played it a thousand-million-billion times. Recently I listened to it and realized that hearing it once, actually, is just like hearing it a thousand-million-billion times. And having heard it once this century, I didn’t feel the need for a repeat and thus changed the channel.

But not before getting a thought in my head: the angel would have much preferred new-violin-player squeaks to that song.

Sorry. 😦

Whoever wrote that angels can’t suffer clearly didn’t talk to my guardian about what happens when someone with taste and perfect pitch is forced to listen to what I sing in the car.

It’s okay, though: he can  luxuriate in the way my own children now are in love with two songs that set my teeth on edge. One is the pre-discussed ten million fireflies song, and the other is Train’s “Hey Soul Sister.”

I guess the song’s ending is okay, and it’s inspiring to witness the same song both restoring the ukelele to its proper  stature in the world of rock and introducing the  idiom “cut a rug” to another generation. Despite those two compelling reasons, I still wouldn’t choose to listen to the song. And yet one of my children yelps out a pained “Change it back!” if I’m flipping channels.

Today, however, I drew the line when  that same child begged me to turn back to a commercial jingle.

Don’t you want me, baby? Well,  not really.  Not unless you and ten million fireflies can cut a rug.

Whenever I blog about pop music, I always get a bunch of  those little thumbs-down votes. Oh well. I like lame music. Ask my brother and he’ll tell you.

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About philangelus

Mom, freelance writer, novelist, angelphile, Catholic, know-it-all.
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