Four

Pretty In Pink by the Psychedelic Furs. The original, not the one that became a huge hit with the movie of the same name. When the movie came out they re-recorded the song, and the first version which couldn’t have been more than a couple of years old just seemed to disappear. It might’ve been a hit, originally. I’m not sure. The popular stations in my area back in the early to near mid-eighties, were WBLS and 92 KTU, who played disco/R&B, and some college stations that played hip-hop. That song had been a staple of WLIR, which had been my favorite radio station in those days. They played new-wave, punk, post punk and stuff I couldn’t hear anywhere else except on college radio at odd hours of the night.

I’d gotten tired of what was being played on R&B stations. Rock was fine if it was Hendrix, AC/DC, The Beatles, or Led Zeppelin, but generally it got a little boring. My intro to LIR was a double barreled assault on my expectations for radio. While fiddling with the radio knob trying to find something decent to listen to, I came across a song called “Me And My Vibrator” by Suzie Seacell, which at the time seemed like the greatest song I’d ever heard in my life. That was followed by “Europa and The Pirate Twins” by Thomas Dolby. That song was just magical. I was hooked. I initially tuned in to that station just to hear the vibrator song again, but I never did. To this day I’ve not heard it for a second time, but for the few years that I listened to WLIR I was introduced to some great music, most (but not all) of which was hated my tiny circle of friends; The The – “This Is The Day”, Smiley Culture – “Police Officer”, Prince – “Ronnie Talk To Russia”, Rita Marley “One Draw (I want to get high)” as well as a host of now remembered 80’s acts who got their initial U.S. airplay on “alternative” radio stations like this around the country; Culture Club, Big Country, U2, Adam And The Ants, Billy Idol, Duran Duran, Eddie Grant, The Clash, Fishbone and more.

Anyway, I was listening to this song at work, and thinking to myself, “This is the original, isn’t it?” I’m really not sure if this is the case, though. It had been years since I’d heard either version, and hear I am listening to it on the Muzak system at work.

Yes Muzak, but it’s probably not what you think. First off I work in an Arts & Crafts supply store. It shall remain unnamed, um…just because. It used to be a haven for art students and freaky creative types like myself, but has grown to aspire to Wal-mart-ism, which just can’t work here. Sure the huge crafts department has always been a magnet for senior citizens, but the major draw for them is the restroom. We shall not discuss the horrors committed there, right now.

The music in the store was programmed with the intention of being inoffensive, which mostly means boring. Previously, this meant piping in the “soft rock” or lite jazz station through the PA and eventually crappy ambient recordings from the 50 cent bin from the CD section from the local discount outlet. Obviously I didn’t care for any of this, but it soon had to end. A string of legal difficulties and unpleasantries led to a general restructuring in the organization. This store was part of a national chain of independently run establishments about 40 strong. The new administration at the top decided to put an end to autonomy, and place each location in lock step with each other. The proposed intention was to avoid future legal troubles but the consequences were much broader. More on those later.

The music being played in the store up to now was unlicensed and therefore illegal. Any establishment that plays copyrighted music publicly, whether live or recorded has to pay fees to ASCAP, BMI, and SECAM. These are performance rights organizations that see to it that songwriters get paid every time their song is played on the radio or sung at karaoke in some bar. So the soft rock and the lite jazz radio and the crappy ambient CDs had to go.

Enter Muzak. When I saw their truck outside the store, I panicked. I remembered what that word meant back in the eighties; syrupy instrumental versions of known pop songs AKA elevator music. I wasn’t happy about what we had; I really wasn’t happy with what we were getting. Turns out I was wrong. Muzak now plays the actual recordings rather than the elevator versions. Perhaps they still do that too, but it’s occurred to me that it’s been a long time since I’ve heard “true” elevator music.

We get a lot of eighties songs, some soul classics, some funk (no George Clinton groups, though), some non-eighties pop and a smattering of some other stuff, like Bob Marley. It all gets mixed together randomly so it doesn’t wear on the nerves so easily, which is good. I think we’re hearing waaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy too much of Howard Jones, however. There must be at least four or five of his songs on the playlist. There’s only three Bowie songs (including “Blue Jean” – ugh), and two by Prince; “Kiss” and “Raspberry Beret”. Three if you count The Bangles tune, “Manic Monday” which he wrote.

I was in one of my aisles, stocking out tape. I deal with adhesives and the small amount of office supplies we carry. It’s Thursday. Payday. Despite how little I make, getting my check puts me in a good mood. Vinnie comes over. There goes my good mood. Vinnie D’Amato works in drawing supplies. Pencils, erasers, rulers, etc. He’s not a complete moron, but sometimes he comes close. Tell you the truth, I like the guy most of the time despite his flaws. Who among us is flawless?

“Yo!!! Jefff-Reiiiiiiiiiii!!! Whasup, dog?” The whole world speaks in ebonics, or what should properly be called jive. It shouldn’t bother me at this point, yet it does, especially coming out of this garlic knot.

“Hello, Vincent.” I responded dryly. I almost always do. I returned to my task.

“Yo, I didn’t see you around yesterday. Everything aiiight?”

“Yeah, I went out Tuesday night with a couple of friends. Got into a little fight on the way home.” Wasn’t in the mood for embellishments, so I added none. I was wearing my shades. I lifted them up so he could see my right eye. Wasn’t as bad as yesterday. As a matter of fact it was much better. Still, it didn’t look quite right. I’d give it a couple more days. Vinnie looked at me like I had pus seeping out of a crack in the inflammation.

“Damn, man. That don’t look good. Wish I had a been there. I would’a whipped up on some ass, som’ awful.” He’s told me and a few others that he has a black belt in Karate. He’s full of shit, of course. But I humor him. We all do.

“Yeah, it’s too bad. But what’s done is done.” I open up a box of masking tape.

“I got your back, dude.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

The moron walks away. I sense a presence behind me.

“Excuse me, young man, but I can’t seem to find one inch 3M masking tape.”

I’ve got it right here.” I say, pointing to the box below me. “How many rolls do you need?”

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