My wife and I just got back from the Bee & Thistle, where we had a belated Mother’s Day Celebration, my wife’s actual Mother’s Day having been spent dealing with my mother.
We had a great time, except…
I am the type of person who is keenly aware of whatever music happens to be playing in my vicinity. I can’t ignore it. There is no such thing as background music as far as I’m concerned.
Well, the Bee & Thistle somehow came into possession of an album or some other source of music featuring a fourth rate Bobby Darin/Frankie Avalon wannabe lounge singer covering rock and roll classics. The first song he massacred was the Beatles Can’t Buy Me Love, after which he went on to mangle a few more Beatle songs, whose names I can’t remember because of the trauma inflicted by the first one.
Then.., there was a blessed pause, after which he returned, turning his attention to such songs as How Sweet It Is and You Don’t Know Me. My God, it was painful. I told my wife if he started in on Satisfaction I was leaving.
Where do these establishments find this kind of music? Surely, no one in their right mind would purchase it to listen to in the privacy of their home. This is not a guilty pleasure-it’s pure torture. Now I know how my wife feels when she complains about being subjected to Fox when she goes to the gym.
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