Five Song Friday: Dear Mister Bono
This Week: Norwegian Orthography, Salty Meats and My Next Country Crush
Hello Bono!
You don’t know me but I enjoy several of your songs, I’m a huge fan of your stage banter and I even once tried to pull off the same sunglasses you wore in the video for “The Fly,” but they were all wrong for my face shape and I had to go back to classic Ray-Bans, which looked much, much better.
Anyhoo…
I’m writing today to let you know that I will not be attending your live conversation event in New York City. In case you haven’t looked that far ahead in your planner, you are scheduled to speak onstage in October as part of the New Yorker Festival.
Your 75-minute chat with editor David Remnick is billed as “A life in songs.”
I really wanted to go.
But then I realized, if I’m going to spend almost $300 to hear someone talk, it should be about ME. Like, I’d pay that kind of money for some kind of therapist/shaman to look into my soul and share seriously amazing, reality-redefining, secrets-of-the-universe level stuff.
Or I’d gladly fork it over to another middle-aged dude with a bushy beard and a fishing sweater if we sat in his office and he told me that it “wasn’t my fault” until we both started sobbing.
Look, I wanted to throw caution and fiscal responsibility to the wind because it’s you. But here’s the other thing, I wouldn’t be going alone. That means almost $600 for two seats, somewhere out there in a theater full of people in the dark.
That… feels like a lot.
For that kind of money, I want to walk out of the theater absolutely TINGLING and thinking, “It ALL makes sense now.” Or, “Who would have guessed that adding those two ordinary spices and one over-the-counter medication to your morning coffee could make you smarter, thinner and impervious to death?”
At the very least, it would be nice to leave after 75 minutes with my hands glowing and the sudden realization that “I know kung-fu.”
I don’t think you’ve got that sort of knowledge to share.
I get the sense that you’re going to talk about your book, which is fine.
You have every right to talk about your autobiography. It’s your life and I’m sure there are millions of people who want to hear about it. You and the U2 boys put out some really good music. You should be proud. Ireland seems nice.
But times are tough, Mr. Bono sir.
I can’t drop that kind of dough and run the risk you take most of your time talking about the problems in the world and how we should all be out there fixing them. I don’t want a lecture or a guilt trip.
If I want to spend money to feel sad and ashamed? That’s what my weekly poker game is for.
I respect your charity work and I have nothing but love and compassion for my fellow Earth people. So godspeed and good on you.
Unfortunately, in my advanced age I suffer from the curse of Unrealistically High Expectations. That means whenever I invest time and money on entertainment outside of my home, I expect it to MOVE me. It has to TRANSFORM me.
It doesn’t make sense (hence the “unrealistic” part), but it’s how my stupid mind works. I’m cynical, jaded, entitled and spoiled.
I need all of my movies to be brilliant. Every live concert must be a religious experience. And if you’re sitting onstage in an easy chair with a microphone, you had better BRING IT. Anything less is unacceptable.
I’ve seen you BRING IT in concert. You can sing your ass off and shake it like a Polaroid picture. But we’re all older now and way more serious.
I’m not excited to pay $600 to watch a rock star act like a grown-up.
Is it possible that I’m making the biggest mistake of my life? Yes. There is always the chance that you could utter the exact right series of words in the exact right sequence to blow my mind like a gender reveal gone wrong.
But I’m not optimistic.
I think it’s mostly going to be politics talk and one funny story about the time you went shoe shopping with Nelson Mandela.
And for that reason, I’m out.
Thank you for reading. Enjoy the music!
Sincerely,
DJ CrankyPete
P.S. Please say hello to Larry Mullen for me.
Five Song Friday 030
“Lovesick” - Lindstrøm, Christabelle
I owe Norwegian artist and producer Lindstrøm an apology. In my attempt to correctly render his name, I carried out an insensitive Google search and typed “adding weird nordic o to words on keyboard.”
That was disrespectful. If an entire nation likes to put slash marks through their Os, why should I feel compelled to judge them? Who am I call Norwegian orthography “weird”? I’m a guy who likes to watch forty minute compilations of seventies and eighties TV commercials on YouTube.
“Postman” - Toro y Moi
I get made fun of in my family because I get excited about checking the mailbox every day. Maybe I deserve it, but in my defense, sometimes I find packages or money.
So who’s laughing now? (Hint: Me)
“New Life” - Do Nothing
I’m a sucker for salty, silly and sarcastic. Throw in a British accent and you’ll get at least 40 plays out of me. Do Nothing is a band from Nottingham, which I assume is somewhere in England (I’m not going to check because I’m not here to teach you about geography. There are schools and online courses for that. Read a book for Christ’s sake).
Their music made me a fan, but after I found an article about them on a website called Dork with the the headline/quote: “A lot of stuff we do lyrically comes from having watched stupid amounts of dumb shit on the internet,” I am now considering asking these guys to join my family in some sort of “sister-wife/house band” arrangement.
“Pulled Pork” - The Stress of Leisure
As I just mentioned, I’m a sucker for salty music. But I also adore salty meats with a white-hot passion. So when the Australian band The Stress of Leisure starts singing about how “pulled pork makes a fool of me,” they have my undivided attention.
“So Entertaining” - Gus and Frank
Maybe I’m giving away my next country crush (sorry Canada) by slapping two Australian bands back-to-back. But I’m not going to apologize for what my heart wants to hear. It’s okay to make yourself vulnerable. Yeah, I get hurt once in a while, but it’s worth the risk. Go ahead and call me a rebel or a fool (I’ve been called worse).
Feelings are cool and I’ll fight you if you tell me they’re not.
Listen on Spotify
Listen on YouTube Music
That’s all for now. Thanks for reading!
“Virtually every writer I know would rather be a musician.” - Kurt Vonnegut