Even if you’re not trying to please that imaginary constituency that supposedly desires to hear just one more replay of “December, 1963″ or the “Chicken Dance” (who are these people? Are they real?), you find yourself indulging in fits of self-censorship and subsequent overcorrection. Thus the following five songs have both disappeared from and reappeared on the wedding dance playlist at least three times in the past several months:
Yes, Sun Ra, I do find earth boring! Is there a program for people like me?
One of the greatest ballads of the New Wave era. But how much do I want a song about Costello’s own adultery to be played at my own repudiation of same (“forsaking all others”)?
This song is gorgeous, all-embracing, cosmic. It also contains the lines “Your mom would drink until she was no longer speaking/And dad would throw the garbage all across the floor.” A verse later, the same dad (presumably) is dreaming “of all the different ways to die.” Hmm.
Richard Hell’s punk classic “Blank Generation” isn’t especially joyful, but its ferocious energy, surprisingly inventive drumming, and Ivan “Build Me Up, Buttercup” Julian’s bass ingeniousness (yes, he was a member of the Foundations before he was a punk) make it supremely joyful to jump around to. For some of us. Maybe.
The Juice reference halfway through this up-with-black-people anthem (“Now it could be Dr. Ralph Bunche/Or Robert Hayes/O.J. Simpson/Or Willie Mays …”) kind of reduces the “up” factor, and a white male’s enthusiasm for such a hopelessly dated, ramshackle production has every chance of being mistaken for condescension (which it isn’t. I don’t think). Too bad, because this song just puts me in the best mood.
I finally resigned myself to the notion that the reception music existed solely to ease me and my wife into the honeymoon as quickly as possible. Once I was in that headspace, I didn’t care if the DJ played nothing but Van Morrison.
You can’t beat Richard Hell, though.