With the purchase of my new Jetta TDI, I received a free 6-month subscription to Sirius satellite radio. At first it was thrilling to discover all of the commercial-free radio stations that would keep me company on my 30-minute commute. Nearly every genre of music, news, and sports has one or more stations for my listening consumption. I can even listen to Francophone Canadian stations and pretend I’m absorbing French. It’s a bountiful buffet of music, pre-niched and pleasing to my many musical moods.
I particularly dote upon the First New Wave station, so-called “Classic Alternative.” There’s nothing cooler than shifting into sixth gear as New Order crescendos all around me and I feel like I’m a veritable car commercial, my adventurous and nonconformist identity validated by the plume of fossil fuels emanating from my 3500-pound vehicle: I love driving! Whoopee!
But after a month and a half of Sirius radio, I’m beginning to grow accustomed to their programming patterns. The First New Wave station, for instance, can’t let an hour go by without the B-52s. I’ll turn off my car in the evening to the sounds of “Rock Lobster,” and start in the morning to “Love Shack.” Which is great if you love the B-52s, but one of my deep dark secrets is… I really don’t like the B-52s.
Shocking, isn’t it? How can someone not like the B-52s, “the greatest party band of all time?” But their music possesses a happy, dorky, frivolous quality that irks me to my cynical core. The regimented duo-female vocals combined with Fred Schneider’s warbling spoken-singing makes me want to cover my ears and hum Green Day songs.
Fortunately, I can just jab at my touchscreen radio and pick another station. And if I jab at it enough, I’ll eventually find something that’ll get my groove on. Sometimes it’s the all-Elvis station, sometimes it’s Howard Stern, and sometimes its NPR talk, riffing on a social problem.
