Have you ever been driving along, singing a song at the top of your lungs and then realize it’s really not a song you should be belting out? I’m not talking about the entire Best of Backstreet Boys compilation (I have no idea to what you’re referring). I’m talking about a song that’s been in your collection forever and you’ve either just realized or constantly forget that its theme is rather somber.
This happened to me today — as you can imagine since I’m now blogging about it.
I was happily driving up Coast Meridian, singing away. The song? Big League by Tom Cochrane. Now, I know I’m probably dating myself by admitting I know this song but, in my defense, it became well-entrenched in my brain when I was young enough to not really listen to the words.
And so, whenever I hear it now, I get about half way through the first chorus — gleefully (GLEEFULLY) singing as though no one can hear me — and I realize that it’s about his son never making it to the big league. So, there I am, joyfully singing about this man’s son’s death. Sigh.
Talk about a buzz kill.
The other song that this happens with is Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People. It’s a catchy one. Jaunty, really. It’s about a school shooting. Again, there I was, car dancing to a song about people dying. Now, whenever this song comes on the radio, I quickly switch the station and it has been “unchecked” from my iTunes playlist. Sorry — I just can’t dance around to death marches.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand that there are going to be songs about sad things. Tragic things. I get it; I understand. What I don’t get is why these songs are so peppy. So belt-able. So dance-able. It’s confusing.