I had dinner the other night at Fable, one of my all time favorite restaurants, and was assailed by their music selection. Since I was dining alone, I had no one with whom to share my insight that the only thing more annoying than old timey rap is French old timey rap.
What is with French people and popular music? They’ve had 60 years of rock and roll, just like the rest of us, and they still can’t get it. I have a theory that their love of rules means they’re still looking for a pop music owners’ manual. Tragically, my theory will never be examined because I find their music too irritating to listen to long enough to find out.
But wait, there’s more. Yesterday I had my teeth cleaned (and found out I have to have a root canal next week) with a new dental tech. My former one was efficient and no nonsense and accepted my blithe answer that I pretty much never floss with a curt “At least you don’t lie about it.” Her replacement is overwhelmingly cheerful and never shuts up.
The music in the office has changed from some very nice classical to something that vaguely resembles mellow jazz, but has no breaks between what might be songs. I assume it’s some algorithm that creates noise influenced by the dreaded Kenny G. Bad enough, but the dental technician only ever stopped yammering in order to hum along with it. Yes, she was singing along to musical gibberish.
Mens to help me calm down: