Song in the Head
I feel like I almost need a category of its own for Song-in-the-Head issues.
The newest I just recognized today is sort of a sneaky one:
At work this morning I was approaching the elevators to go up to my desk, and caught myself singing Alphaville's "Red Rose."
"So what," you might be saying.
The odd thing was, this wasn't the first time. I recalled having been humming the same song on Friday morning. And possibly on at least one other morning before that. The sense of deja vu was too strong to dismiss.
And of all songs to get in my head? "Red Rose" was a minor hit, at best, never even placing on the charts (unlike "Forever Young," "Big in Japan," and "Dance with Me," their other well known singles of the same era which had topped the charts in various countries). Most people in the US and Canada can't even recall ever having heard the song — it's one of those 80s songs that wasn't played much outside of Europe in the first place, and never entered the canon of music featured on "retro" sort of radio programs and "retro nights" and clubs.
It was when I went downstairs mid-morning for another cup of tea that suddenly it all made sense.
I showed my tea to the cashier.
"A dollar fifteen, for Red Rose tea," she said. And up popped the song right on cue.
Now my concern is how to banish the association, because, despite the fact that Alphaville is better than other song possibilities (I shudder to think of Bette Midler accompanying my breakfast routine), I'd really prefer not to have a tea-buying soundtrack at all.
I may have to fall back on "The Girl from Ipanema" cure* .
* Around 2001 or so, there was a soundbite on the NPR morning show where a commentator gave a monologue which went roughly like this:
A fair amount of Google searching reveals that dozens of bloggers know and love that same story, but the original source seems to have fallen into oblivion. Ironically, someone even recalled this story as advice in a comment to one of the writers on the NPR website in 2007.
The newest I just recognized today is sort of a sneaky one:
At work this morning I was approaching the elevators to go up to my desk, and caught myself singing Alphaville's "Red Rose."
"So what," you might be saying.
The odd thing was, this wasn't the first time. I recalled having been humming the same song on Friday morning. And possibly on at least one other morning before that. The sense of deja vu was too strong to dismiss.
And of all songs to get in my head? "Red Rose" was a minor hit, at best, never even placing on the charts (unlike "Forever Young," "Big in Japan," and "Dance with Me," their other well known singles of the same era which had topped the charts in various countries). Most people in the US and Canada can't even recall ever having heard the song — it's one of those 80s songs that wasn't played much outside of Europe in the first place, and never entered the canon of music featured on "retro" sort of radio programs and "retro nights" and clubs.
It was when I went downstairs mid-morning for another cup of tea that suddenly it all made sense.
I showed my tea to the cashier.
"A dollar fifteen, for Red Rose tea," she said. And up popped the song right on cue.
Now my concern is how to banish the association, because, despite the fact that Alphaville is better than other song possibilities (I shudder to think of Bette Midler accompanying my breakfast routine), I'd really prefer not to have a tea-buying soundtrack at all.
I may have to fall back on "The Girl from Ipanema" cure
For all those times you have a song hopelessly stuck in your head, and nothing else seems to work, I've found a cure. The secret is to hum the tune of "The Girl from Ipanema." It's important, however, that you only hum the melody of "The Girl from Ipanema," because if you actually sing the lyrics, then you'll have "The Girl from Ipanema" itself stuck in your head, and, regretably, there's no known cure for that.
A fair amount of Google searching reveals that dozens of bloggers know and love that same story, but the original source seems to have fallen into oblivion. Ironically, someone even recalled this story as advice in a comment to one of the writers on the NPR website in 2007.