Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Summer Radio Lovin'

I get the fun of having an extended contract, which means that I work many days during the summer, including this week.  My husband does not have to work, so he stays home and mocks me.  The best part about working during the summer is that I can listen to whatever I want on the radio and I don't have to get grief about it. 

My husband is one of those people who only listens to certain kinds of music, and that music is, in general, what I call angry music.  Most of it is some form of metal, and if you ask him, and even if you don't, my husband will tell you what part of the metal family tree a particular song is from and give you the history of that particular branch.  He will do this while the song is playing, so you don't actually ever get to hear the song, and in some cases that is for the best.  He is obsessive about his music, and will learn all the names of the band members as well as their bios.  He loves Iron Maiden(and oddly, you don't see a lot of women at Iron Maiden concerts), Judas Priest, Motorhead, Megadeth, and Rush, among others.  He has acquired a liking for the Rolling Stones and The Who, mainly due to my influence, but he's always like Led Zeppelin. 

I, on the other hand, am more of an eclectic.  I will listen to any song at least once, no matter the genre.  I am not ashamed to admit that I like some country music, or some pop music, or a few jazz tunes.  Music is beautiful in all sorts of ways.  I even like some of the heavy metal music.  But I am not obsessive about my music.  I never spent hours poring over album covers, unless you count Duran Duran's Rio when I was in high school.  But that was because I had a mad crush on the entire band and was at a loss as to which one was the dreamiest. (It was John. No, it was...)   My point in all this is that I usually am pretty flexible about music during car rides. 

My husband and I carpool to work, and every morning we listen to whatever my husband chooses.  We do this for the sake of matrimonial bliss, because he feels that I hog the radio.  I don't hog the radio.  I put it on one radio station and leave it there unless they play more than two commercials in a row or a song that I can't stand anymore, like Sweet Child of Mine.  Then I switch it to the next station.  There may be a song or two in the mix that I don't care for, but I don't change the station, I just tough it out.  My husband has to push buttons if there's any song that he's even briefly ambivalent about, which means that he presses the button at least six times in a row without actually listening to the song that is playing before he is onto the next.  This drives me bonkers and leads to screaming matches, which is not a pleasant way to start your day.  So the mornings are my husband's turn to play whatever music he wants.  If I don't like it, well, it's over in about three minutes.  I'll live.  The only time I've complained is when my husband wants to listen to the same album, like Motorhead, every single morning for two whole weeks.  I don't think that even Lemmy listens to himself that much.

When it is my turn, on the drive home, I usually park it on a radio station and that is what we listen to on the way home.  As long as the station is playing tunes that he likes, my husband doesn't say a word.  But let Christina Aguilera start singing about her genie in a bottle, and he will find any excuse to turn the volume down so he can't hear it, be it a phone call or something else. Sometimes he will ask to change the station, which is preferable.  If I snipe at him about this, then I'm being "boo", and why am I in such a bad mood?  Which is like pressing THE BIG RED BUTTON for me.  (You have one of those too, don't you?  Don't lie.)

During the summer, I can listen to whatever I want in the car.  If I want to mix Alice in Chains with the Glee soundtrack and throw in a couple of Def Leppard tunes, I can.  Ozzy can hang out with Elton John and they can jam with George Strait.  It's all good.  And above it all, I can sing at the top of my lungs, in tune and out.

1 comment:

  1. WE can't be married to the same man, can we? I think it is something in that little y chromosome.


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