One of the first nights I hung out with Hubster, back when I shared a flat with a teenage boy and an insane member of MENSA (a blog if ever there was one,) I sat sipping whiskey as he played song after song after song on his very nice stereo. As we listened, it become clearly obvious that our musical tastes were not quite the same. I'm a bluegrass/folk/hippy/guitar kinda girl. Him, well, he's hard to pin down. He's got this thing for Mmmbop, he loves a song by a man named Martyn Joseph , and could happily play KLF for hours on end.
As he continued tripping down memory lane, he started sharing songs from his days in South Africa, his time in Spain, and even a French song or two and I don't know if it was the whiskey or Hubster actually started to open up, but through all those songs, I realized a couple of things. One, I liked this guy. And two, his inner calling had been missed. He would have made a rocking DJ.
The Internet has definitely helped him keep this addiction alive. He can spend hours surfing through sites, finding videos of songs loved and lost and then blaring them as loud as possible on our dinky computer speakers. The next thing you know, he's got three little people glued to his knees, asking for the videos over and over again. He's got them loving our standard selection of dead singers, current French and English favourites, and also songs who's lyrics they don't understand but who's rhythm rocks.
Case in point:
Just ask The Princess or Mini-Husband what they want to listen to and 8 times out of 10, it's "the Cadillac song!" The other times would be for this one:
A huge favourite with my head banging Bubba-Love.
The coolest part about all this is listening to the tribe sing in English, French and a bizarre form of Spanish. It makes me realize how much I like them. No whiskey needed. (Well, when they aren't on school vacation that is...)