There’s music everywhere I go. At that place the old ones call the Hordwore Store? It’ll be somebody baying over the sound system, “Did I Shave My Legs for This?” At the Sorta Fresh or the Ack, Me, it’ll be Yanni’s biggest hit or something really hip from Neal Sedaka. Back in the day, I understand, you could only get that in elevators. But now every store has realized that everybody likes the same music at the same time, played all day, beginning at 7 a.m. Doesn’t it make you wanna buy something? Got to, or how else did marketers convince every chain in America that I’d purchase more Purina if only I could hear more Pat Bone. . .Boone?
Forty-year-old music is not, surprisingly, to everyone’s taste. One day I’m checking out at the supermarket that boasts it is saving energy by dimming the lights, and the counter person asks the ubiquitous question: Did you find everything? And I say, no, I couldn’t find the OFF button. And she says, “How do you think we feel, we gotta listen to that 70s music for 10 hours a day.” Maybe she should consider a career opportunity at that Hordwore Store where I heard a song sounded very fresh to me, went like, “Get Your Tongue Outta Mah Mouth ‘Cause Ah’m Kissin’ You Goodbye.”
