Some of you may not realize this, but I hate pop music. Well maybe not hate, I mean, I’ll sing along to Katy Perry in the car, and I’ve been known to do a mean Hit Me Baby One More Time at karaoke. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get into Black Eyed Peas music. And I mean ok, maybe I have a couple of their songs on my phone from long ago when I was young and naive, but lately their music is just terrible.
But here is the kicker. Given enough time, even I being incredibly curmudgeon and snarky, will eventually find myself danicng and singing the latest BEP song. At first I was worried about how I managed to let that acoustic anarchy into my mind, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there is a process to enjoying what they call “music”. And so I give to you my 5 step process for coming to terms with enjoying the Black Eyed Peas.
Lets face it, we’ve all been there. Driving in our cars, and you start to hear a cover of Time of my Life and you are so overcome with shock and disgust that you almost ram the Carolla driving in front of you (and if you know my opinions on Corollas you’d know that I consider this an upgrade for the Corolla). And so the only recourse you have is to immediately change the station to something more calming and just keep telling yourself that those songs from your childhood are still pure and Baby still isn’t in a corner.
Sadly, you can’t keep changing the stations because lets face it, even though I live in the Live Music Capital of the World, the radio choices are few and far between. At some point every other radio station is going to be at commercial and the only musical choice is McArthur Park on the local BoB FM station or the pop station playing BEP. There is no winning in this situation. And so you sit there listening to the music, cursing the traffic on Mopac for moving at 10 mph because people can’t figure out how to merge.
So there you are, having come to terms with the fact that the BEP have in fact ruined a song from your childhood and you are no longer really angry about it. But now you face a new problem. The song is played all the time. There is no escaping it. In the car. At the gym. At the grocery store. In the waiting room of your therapist. No matter where you go, the siren call of Fergie follows you. And so I find myself begging and pleading for something, anything to take this song off the top forty list. I’ve even asked for a new Ke$ha song just to escaping the beat boxing of apl. de. app.
So there I am in my car on a hot Friday afternoon, my only music choice after a long day at work (doing important rocket scientist things) invariably is BEP. Every other station is on a commercial break. There is no hope. My life is in despair.
And then one day, there I am and a BEP song comes on the radio. I don’t try to change the station. I don’t get angry. I don’t wish for anything else and I don’t feel sad for my situation. Rather I find myself singing along and maybe even dancing a bit (more like rhythmically flailing about). And this is how I come to enjoy hits such as
It works every time.