Items of a largely musical nature

This will be brief because, well, I don’t know why.  It just will.  Blame it on the earthquake that, by now, everyone’s heard about (right?).  For the record, yes, I felt it, as did plenty of other people in the Cincinnati area.  It was the first recognizable earthquake experience of my life, at the well-seasoned age of 38.  Well, at least the first one that didn’t include a case of cheap beer.  Feeling the room move somewhat spontaneously is sort of a right-of-passage for the college-aged, and rumor has it I might have experienced that a time or two.  In my foggy youth.

At any rate, the whole shaking Earth thing made for an interesting afternoon.

So where was I?  Oh yes, musical things.

First things first, I wanted to share this:

In case you’re one of those whippersnappers that needs to get off my lawn, that’s the theme song from the The Muppet Show as performed by OK Go.  I will readily admit that before today I’ve been utterly, completely meh about OK Go.  I mean, I’m old, right?  They were probably tugging on their momma’s apron for a Capri Sun when I was in college.  Now having heard this exceptional piece, while I can’t say that I’m ready to follow them on tour, score some coke, or pick out the green M & M’s for them, they certainly have earned a modicum of respect in my eyes.

Lest you mock, I would not take that lightly; it can potentially lead to full-blown appreciation.  For instance, I once hated Justin Timberlake with every fiber of my being.  I mean, come on, he was “the pretty one” in N-Sync; all the ladies swooned.  In contrast, I was the kind of the guy nicknamed Puddin.  But as he grew out of his boy-band days and started mocking himself and others (as well as gift-giving) on Saturday Night Live, I realized I no longer loathed him with the same ferocity I do ranch dressing.  So as long as he never sings again, he and I will get along just fine.

Which is important, of course, in case I run into him at the annual Puddintopia Holiday party.  Otherwise things might have been awkward.

Item number two falls into the category of “Questions I Want Answer To”.  Can someone please tell me why the blue bloody hell all the soft past-contemporary-type radio stations in Cincinnati have to play Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” Every. Single. Day?

Look, I appreciate me some Prince, and yes, everyone agrees that baby is much too fast.  But if you’re playing hits from the “80’s, 90’s, and Today”, isn’t there a large enough pool of recorded tracks available so that maybe you don’t have to repeat, you know, hardly anything?  I mean, even if they just limit themselves to the pop stuff, you’re talking about three decades—decades—worth of music!  I’m pretty sure I could keep each of those stations rolling independently with enough embarrassing songs from my youth that you wouldn’t hear the same track twice on any of them all month long.

(As an added bonus, I’d throw some Tiffany in there too, just for my freshman high school self.  Kid had it rough; he deserves a little something. Sue me.)

The point though, is that, yes, we get it, somebody likes that Little Red Corvette a bunch.  Now, can we please move on.  Maybe compromise on Purple Rain sometimes?  Let’s Go Crazy?  Anything; I’m open to suggestions here.

Thirdly, an announcement: you’ve likely seen the last Earworm of the Day around here.  I love the idea and very much enjoy sharing my earworms with the world, but it just wasn’t working out.  Every time I’d finally rid myself of something, I’d open up a new Chrome window and BAM! Barry Manilow’d be all over me again.  So, no more.

Finally, although my complete lack of any sort of musical ability has been well documented, my love of language finds me constantly putting together words on accident that would make excellent band names.  Some might claim that I’ve pilfered this activity from the inimitable John Scalzi (whom you can see frequently do exactly that on twitter by following @scalzi—which you should do, because he’s tremendously entertaining).  Before I go any further, I would like to assert that I’ve been making up fake band names since 1996, when I magically fabricated the phrase “Liquid Dog” from thin air and have been playing Band Name Boggle ever since.

For example, I found some inexplicable reason to use the phrase “intentional nonsequitur” yesterday at some point.  Thus, Intentional Nonsequitur is currently the front-runner on the list of potential names for the band I’ll never form.  Now, I suspect this is a very common practice.  Everybody’s got a future band name, right?  So then, I’ve showed you mine; what’s yours?  Leave a comment below and post your best moniker for all the world to see.  Maybe I’ll pick my favorite.  As an added bonus, this way you’ve got copyright evidence, right?

No, I’m not kidding.  Make with the band names before I take back my no-more-earworms pledge.

Don’t be shy; bring it!

Pud’n