Sometimes I make myself giggle with my own answers…
“What song would you say is a song made just for drinking?”
There are so many options, but it really boils down to the mood of the drinker and the atmosphere of where the drinking is to be done. The first two which came to mind might offer a glimpse into my current mood:
“Captured Blues,” by The Enablers…
“Goin’ Out West,” by Tom Waits…
I have to admit, both songs conveniently summon images of the bar from Fight Club: seedy, shoes sticking to the floor from spilled… whatever – cheap beer, rotgut whiskey, discount scotch, ketchup, and other stuff which is probably best not described.
Perhaps it is the gravelly lyrics… the angry growls of an angry drunk who is rambling about his self-induced and slow-motion implosion. You know the type: you stay away from them because they will either give you that seemingly never-ending brotherly embrace of body odor and stale cigarettes or will back you into an ethical corner of whether or not the use of heavy barstools falls under “justifiable self-defense.”
It could be the distorted guitar – the soundtrack of a bad hangover loading… overwriting the corrupted files of a shitty day… the sound of poor but inevitable decisions fueled by one cigarette after another at the end of a day where bathing was a questionable memory of a time long ago… the fuzzy pondering of why a cherished friend has inexplicably become a panicked lion-tamer before you, brandishing the barstool you knocked over trying to show how much you love him.
These are the theme songs for a completely fucked up night: terrifying, raw, emotional, and possibly resulting in criminal charges. Oddly enough, so can this one:
“Barbie Girl,” by Aqua…
I can hear the needle being dragged over the record:
“Mike, how in the hell did you go from those two to… to… THIS??”
Go back a bit to this: “These are the theme songs for a completely fucked up night: terrifying, raw, emotional, and possibly resulting in criminal charges.”
All of the above could apply to this ditzy song… just substitute the crappy drink selections with potent sugar-laden fu-fu drinks and you are going to see the same thing… probably with a similar level of violence. I have seen both examples, and the only difference is the music.
[Looks for a biker bar and “Barbie Girl” on the jukebox… orders Scapa… and waits.]
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