One of our cars has XM radio. Best. Thing. Ever. For those of us dancing with ADD, it’s a dream come true. Hate a song? Switch. Not in the mood? Switch. Heard your favorite line, that’s enough? Switch.
Then there’s the audio display, which in my case is probably just as dangerous as texting. I’m always curious to see when a song was released. Is that song/am I that old? And I’m finally learning the names of the artists, which are often ridiculous. Case in point, Climax. Come on. Were they really thinking story structure when they coined that one?
But my favorite is listening to the oldies that you don’t often hear on local stations. For example, Bread. I liked their music even when I was five and didn’t know the first thing about love. So imagine my delight the other day when I recognized a melody and saw their name on display with the title, “It Don’t Matter to Me.” I eased back in my seat and listened to the words.
Starts off sweet enough. The guy loves the woman so much he tells her to go off and find what she needs in order to be happy. That’s wise. That’s generous. But then he goes on to say, she can even check out other guys, and no matter what, he’ll still be waiting to take her back.
Are you kidding me? Maybe if I were a single woman, I’d say, “Cool. Safety net.” But as a mother that will take down the girl who breaks my boy’s heart, I find it appalling. In fact, I plan to play it for him as a lesson in how not to be a p . . . pushover.
Then yesterday, I heard Rod Stewart’s “Stay With Me.” (Actually, it was released when he was with Faces. See, something else I learned from XM). Anyway, turns out it is not about a guy needing to keep a woman in his life. No, this song is about a guy who wants to keep a woman in his bed. For one night. And he wants her gone before sun-up. Now that’s some romance. It’s also fodder for another lesson plan, “How not to be a Ho.” Do you think I could sell my curriculum to the Homeschooling Mothers of America?
How many other songs have I misunderstood? It’s obvious I need to put aside my chores and look into these oldies. I’m starting to wonder if The Who’s “Squeeze Box” is really about a mother who plays the accordion.