The Produce Aisle Is Alive With The Sound Of Music Arguments

Earlier this week The Husband and I were at the grocery store. We were standing in the produce section, debating what onion would be considered Ridiculously Huge enough for the recipes on this week’s menu — we eat A LOT of onion in our household — when suddenly I heard it.

“That’s a great song,” I said.

The Husband listened, then shrugged. “I don’t know this one,” he said, resuming the Onion Quest.

“It’s ‘London Calling'” I said.

“Okay,” he said, continuing to examine the onion bin.

“By The Clash?” I offered, thinking this bit of information would help jog his memory.

He did NOT take eyes off those onions. “I have no idea who they are.”

“Sure you do!” I said. “They’re the ones that do ‘Rock The Casbah.'” I started singing and dancing, thinking SURELY this one would click. Or at the very least distract him from the onions.

He did stop looking at the onions — only because he had moved on to the next produce item on our list. “Nope.”

I was flabbergasted at this point. “STRAIGHT TO HELL?!” I shouted. Before any shoppers could whip out their cell phones and start filming what I’m sure sounded like a dramatic confrontation, I loudly added “it’s another one of their songs. I play it all the time. I’m not cursing at you!”

The Husband continued his denials. “None of that sounds familiar,” he said, leaving me in a state of shock.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. Shortly after we were married, I discovered he had no idea who Peter Gabriel is. I decided I needed to remedy the situation by belting out “Shock The Monkey.” He was impressed by my vocal prowess, but not with the song itself. The longer we’re married, the more I find that we not only have vastly different musical tastes, but our musical standards are completely different. Songs and artists that I consider essential — that surely EVERYONE has at least heard of —he has no clue. And music that he likes and considers essential…he just doesn’t care if I listen to it.

I’ve been trying to figure out why it’s so important to me that he have an understanding of these songs. Part of me thinks I just need to be validated as cool. I’d like to think that knowing a bunch of songs makes me cool, or whatever the kids are saying these days. Dope? Phat? Sick? Can I suggest a new buzzword to convey that someone is cool? Or would that not be cool? I have no idea.

Truthfully, though, I think I just need him to know a bunch of songs because my brain is a giant jukebox. Whatever song I’m mumbling my way through at the moment is a clue to what I’m thinking or feeling.

For example, if I’m singing “Cities in Dust” by Siouxsie and the Banshees, chances are I’m mad about something and I’m trying to cope with my feelings by singing about a volcano. Because that makes sense, right? So now he knows that if he hears that song, he needs to back away slowly.

I’ve also taught him that if I’m in need of respect, there’s only one song that will do the trick…

…and that is “Nasty” by Janet Jackson.

You weren’t expecting that one, were you?

I’ve also got happy songs, sad songs, songs to help me get in the zone for writing, songs for folding laundry, songs for driving, songs for walking around the living room in circles (which is how I kickstart the muse and sort out whatever writing idea is bouncing around in my head), songs for getting dressed in the morning…the list goes on. I’ve got a song or two for just about everything.

Now you might be wondering, “does The Husband express himself through music like you do? What do you know about what he likes?”

The short answer, my friends, is I don’t think so. I’m not confident enough in my answer to give a solid yes or no. There are two reasons for that:

1. When I do hear him listening to music (which is not often), I can’t understand said music.
2. When I hear him sing (which is also rare), I don’t always know what he’s saying.

Usually I hear his music when I get into his car and it attacks me through the speaker.

“RRWWWWARRRRRRWHHHHHAAAA!” says the singer (if you can even call him or her a singer).

Some crunching guitar riffs follow accentuated by rapid fire drumming. At least I think it’s drumming. All I know is that it’s loud and aggressive.

The Husband usually turns off whatever he was listening to quickly before my ears can be pummeled any more than they already have.

Thankfully, in the rare moments I do hear him listening to this kind of music, The Husband does not attempt to sing along.

I do hear him sing at church almost every week. I say “almost every week” not as a comment on how frequently he attends. It’s more of a reflection on how often he sings. Like most people in our faith, there are only about ten songs that he knows and feels comfortable with. But there are about 300 others in the hymnal. So whenever we’re singing anything that is not on his list of 10, his singing is hit or miss. Let’s say, for example, that the opening line in the hymn goes like this:

“Jesus, all that is good is from thee. I praise your holy name.”

The Husband will take one look at this unfamiliar hymn and decide either to be silent or attempt to muddle through. If he decides to muddle through, the end result will sound something like this:

“Jesus, hrrm errr eee good ahh errrm naaaaaaaaaaaaaaame.”

So as you can see, we have wildly different opinions on and experiences with music. You might wonder, do we have any common ground? The answer can be summed up in two words: Foo Fighters. We both love that band.

In summary, here’s what I’ve decided I need to do on the subject of music and my marriage:

1. Keep introducing The Husband to important songs.
2. Don’t expect him to sing along to any of them.
3. Unless it’s Foo Fighters.