I need to share this before my head explodes from the irony.
So, i’m in the record room, shelving records. It’s a big room, and i’m alone, so i have the new Sheryl Crow record blasting from the inventory computer. In walks one of my supervisory co-workers, who says hi and takes off his jacket. He fiddles with various records and gadgets for a minute, and then turns to me and proclaims, “I’m sorry, i have to turn this shit off before i go insane.”
I wasn’t particularly offended, as i know that my predilection for female singer-songwriters isn’t shared by all of my associates. However, this particular person is a big fan of “house” music, which can at times consist of a couple of thin vocals strung over repetitive dance beats for minutes on end. Good-naturedly i joked back that i, at least, enjoyed music with choruses and verses. He somewhat snidely replied that he enjoyed verses very much, but not performed by “whiny bitches who don’t have any soul.”
He ejected my cd and dropped a record onto the turntable. There were no sounds on it produced by acoustic or strung instruments, and the singer sounded as though she had been randomly selected from a pool of gospel choir drop outs. In other words, there wasn’t any soul – or, at least none outside of the canned and anonymous vocal.
I smirked; I’m sure Sheryl’s feelings weren’t hurt too badly.