1992: New York City- Tiny cubicles
- Boss from hell
- A meager $21,000 with a master's degree
- Neil Young
It was my first job out of grad school and I was working for one of the leading ad agencies in the world. I hated my boss. I hated the corporate environment. I was stuffed into an itty-bitty cubicle with the rest of the underpaid peons. Life just couldn't get any better. But then it did. My cubicle neighbor decided that Neil Young needed to be played daily. Not just once a day, but all day. Every day. That voice was like nails on a chalkboard. To this day, when I hear a Neil Young song, my blood runs cold. Could I have ever liked Neil Young if I hadn't heard him on repeat for about a year? Sadly, we'll never know.
That was my first experience with musical over-kill, but it wasn't to be my last
1994: Avalon, New Jersey
- Blue shag carpeting
- Bodies everywhere
- Counting Crows
One summer before we got married, Rob and I shared a beach house with a few dozen of his closest friends. And that was the summer I despised the Counting Crows and their first CD, "August and Everything After." Like Neil Young, someone felt the Counting Crows should be played over, and over, and over, and over, and over again, ad nauseum. So I grew to absolutely hate them and that CD, and was generally miserable for the entire summer (his friends wondered why he was marrying such a b*tch). It took several years before I could listen to the Counting Crows without wincing, though in this case I eventually grew to love that CD.
2010: Wallingford, Pennsylvania
- Two kids, a dog, a cat, a guinea pig, a husband
- 2nd degree black belt
- Freakin' Angels blog
- Bruce Springsteen
My husband is killing Bruce for me. Unlike in the case of Neil Young and the Counting Crows, I used to like Bruce Springsteen. A lot. But my husband, who's been a life-long fan, is increasingly obsessed.
Obsessed as in attends every concert.
Obsessed as in listens non-stop to the Bruce channel on satellite radio. Obsessed as in
The Gospel According to Bruce Springsteen.
I don't know if it's just me, but there is nothing I can tolerate on such a constant basis. Not my kids. Not the Godfather movie. Not Bruce Springsteen. Heck, not even my beloved Glee, volume one CD!
Who or what has been ruined for you by overexposure?
1992: New York City
2 comments:
Frank Sinatra - although Dave does not play Frank incessantly, I can only take him in VERY small doses and when Im very drunk (Frank, not Dave). I tend to ruin my own songs and bands for myself. I get obsesses, play CD over and over -- and then cant listen again. I did that with Susan Steen, remember?
There's a BRUCE station on satellite radio??? Say it isn't so!
I'm with you, Kim. Even the best music dies a slow, miserable death when overplayed. Although some definitely has a longer lifespan than others!
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