I spent today listening to selections from my brother-in-law's massive CD collection. It's eclectic, to say the least. All of Boston's albums? Check. The collected works of Phillip Glass? Indeed. The entire series of KGSR Broadcast volumes? Yes. Best of Banarama? Of course.
I had dived into the 80s rock and pop when I was struck by something. How can I so thoroughly delight in the aural melted cheeze that is Rick Astley singing "Never Gonna Give You Up" while finding Spandau Ballet's "True" and the entire Thompson Twins ouvre distasteful? Not only do I hold strong opinions about one versus the other, but I have arguments that I can marshall in a debate should I be challenged.
Here is more weirdness:
-Foreigner sucks, except "Urgent" which actually emotionally affects me.
-Hall & Oates suck, except "Out of Touch" where the Oates singing "time" in the chorus makes me happy.
-The analog keyboard whine solo in Berlin's "The Metro" is one of the best non-natural sounds ever.
-I love Frida's "I Know There's Something Going On" more than most all of the songs she sang in ABBA.
What is wrong with me?
And why when I so loathed them growing up, do I put myself through the exquisite torture that is Journey? It's the same feeling when I tug on the beard hair under my bottom lip. It hurts, but I find myself doing it repeatedly every few months. It's sick, I know, but then "Wheels in the Sky" comes on the radio and I'm helpless to resist. I no longer control my body; lyrics coming unbidden out of my mouth and I grimace along with Steve Perry (though mine certainly is laced with an acute awareness of just how very awful are the lyrics).
This has lead to the inevitable karaoke performances. My favorites:
"Like A Virgin" Madonna (performed as if I was Mike Patton of Faith No More)
"Take Me Home Tonight" Eddie Money
"Rock Lobster" B-52s (I do a excellent psychotic Fred)
and my signature, "One Night in Bangkok" Murray Head.
And now I'm starting to feel the itch.