How to have musical taste at least as good as anyone on Friends
by Jon Worley
Yes, you've made it! You're twentysomething and a college graduate. So you're still working at Burger King; there's a management-trainee slot opening at Pizza Hut next week. The future is limitless, and you are exactly the same age as the coolest people on television. If only your taste in tunes could live up to all that promise.
As always, we at Lies are here to help. I know, you're thinking, "But man, if I could have dug the Rembrandts only two months before, I coulda scored with a babe like Courtney Cox." I could debate the babeness of said "actress" or the musical merit of the band, but that wouldn't be constructive. And the honest truth is, famous and powerful people enjoy the Rembrandts.
True story: Candidate Bill Clinton (back in 1992) was planning a big Labor Day speech in Independence, Missouri. I was an unpaid (soon to be paid) staff guy. We learned the day of the event (Labor Day) that Mr. Bill himself wanted three songs played over the sound system. And none of us cool staffers had the damn things on CD. But we had an expense account and thirty minutes (from 9:30 a.m. to 10 a.m.) to procure the music.
Wal-Mart was cool enough to be open and have Fleetwood Mac's Greatest Hits (for that really annoying "Don't Stop" song) and John Cougar's Scarecrow (for "Small Town"). But the Wal-Mart music steward (who was about 80) had never heard of the Rembrandts. Of course, neither had we, and we didn't even know what the name of the album was.
But we scooted over to the Independence Center (which opened at 8 a.m. for mall walkers, though the stores didn't open until 10) and rattled the gate at the Camelot. They were suitably impressed by our frantic screaming, and they found the proper Rembrandts CD, complete with the song "Everyday People". That song is dumb enough, but I'm sure you all remember the big hit: "That's Just the Way It Is, Baby".
So if Bill and Lisa and Jennifer and company like the shit, you get to hum it, too. Like a mantra. Over and over, until it never leaves your head. Forget about cool bands like Superchunk and vicious music like Frank Zappa's. Once this has entered your brain, anything of substance has left. You have achieved the first step of being on the cutting edge of cool music.
Second, refuse to even consider the works of any artist that made it big after you left college. To be really cool, ignore anything after high school. So if you graduated in 1990, a perfectly acceptable phrase would be: "What the fuck are Foo Fighters?" Also, pledge allegiance to albums by ex-members of cool bands from "your era," even if you didn't like the stuff when it first came out. You'll find yourself saying silly things like "That Mike Watt album was truly bitchin'" and "Frank Black was the only talent in the Pixies, man" with astonishing sincerity.
You must become a devoted viewer of VH1's 80s music show. Start moonwalking again and bop till you drop. Practice opening lines like "I don't think there's been a cool British band since the Human League" and "I can't even understand this stuff on the radio. Give me Matthew Wilder any day." With a little work, you will be amazed at your progress.
It's all downhill from there. From proclaiming Annie Lennox's shrill interpretation of "Whiter Shade of Pale" to be "one of the great performances in music history" to simply acknowledging the competency of someone like Mr. Mister, you will be walking and talking like a cool twentysomething Friends dudette (or dude, if you prefer).
You'll know you've made it when one day you mention, in casual conversation with a drop-dead gorgeous babe-o-rama at the local ex-frat boy bar, that you think Ready for the World has to be one of the finest r&b groups of all time.
Oh, Oh, Oh-Oh Sheila, indeed.
Jon is so cool he knows that the aforementioned Ready For The World song is about Sheena Easton and not Sheila E. The R.F.T.W. boys just got the Prince collaborators mixed up.
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