So I'm sitting in the back of this bar with a pitcher of my favorite lager, hanging out with some of my friends from home. It's a real mellow scene and everyone can hear each other's conversation for the most part. Of concern tonight is whether anyone really cares that "Friends" is going off the air (everyone does), who is going to get the next pitcher (our drunk friend who doesn't know any better), and whether or not the Eagles are going to win the Super Bowl (no one knows enough about football to make a cogent thought and no real theory is presented that convinces anyone that the Eagles will win).
Then it happens. Out of nowhere, the scene turns ugly and interpersonal communication becomes all but impossible. The culprit: a thirty-five year old, drunk off her ass floozy who just had her sixth Michelob Lite. A woman who should probably be home with her kids that have school the next day is ramming crumpled one-dollar bills into the bar's jukebox. No longer is the bar a place of casual conversation, but instead, a raving, drunken dance-a-thon where stupid drunk girls wearing belly shirts that fail to hide their second and third stomachs are thrashing around the bar, knocking into people, and screaming, "OH MY GOD! I LOVE THIS SONG!" Not only that, but there are also terribly awkward guys with tight ribbed sweaters, wearing way too much cologne, bouncing around with no rhythm whatsoever, looking like idiots and staring down the girls with three stomachs as best they can. You see, their eyes are glazed over and they can't make out the genuinely attractive girls that are repulsed by them from the genuinely hideous girls that are looking for any action they can get.
With all this said, I believe there is a true deficit in this country of good jukebox songs and the Jukebox Educational System is failing miserably. Casual bar-goers are being forced to witness horrific displays of uncoordinated fatness pranced around their favorite watering holes because of songs like "Hey Ya!" (an incredibly underplayed song, if you ask me) and other jiggle-the-junk-in-the-trunk anthems. There needs to be a common understanding among casual drinkers and people who mistake casual drinking for rave-like dance clubs; that understanding is going to start here!
NOTICE: Some bars are just not supposed to turn into dance clubs! Those bars include any place that consists primarily of tables. If you walk into a bar and see that 95% of the floor is covered with tables, pool tables, or stools along the wall, don't expect too much dancing. These bars are made for classic rock and background music. If you begin dancing like a fool theses are the things that are going to happen:
- You will begin sweating profusely because, chances are, it is a small, overcrowded, smoky bar to begin with. When you begin sweating all of us not shaking our oversized asses will think you are disgusting and will pray to God we don't bump into you while we are trying to get our next drink.
- All the old guys that frequent the bar and never have to pay because it's understood they have no money or no home will start eyeing you up and you will be the uncomfortable recipient of a total eyeball-undressing. This begins at your head, focuses way too long on your breasts, and continues down, with varying pauses for perverted fantasies, to your feet, which will also be the subject of a sick fantasy. Also, you will be offered countless drinks and even if you accept one, you are a sad, pathetic creature. Sorry, it's true.
- Everyone will consciously and unconsciously curse you to death. You are annoying and you are ruining the atmosphere. Please stop dancing. You have no rhythm, you are probably drunk, definitely underdressed (with bits and pieces of your excess skin hanging out), and obviously in the wrong place. Go down the street to the overpriced dance club with all the gay guys who, you can be secure of the fact, won't grope you or fantasize about you.
Now that that is out of the way, let's make something clear. Bars like the one we mentioned above are not places where super-intelligent conversations take place, nor are they places where yuppies comes to talk trade and share insider stock recommendations. They are the type of place where you show up in jeans and a T-shirt, grab a few drinks, play some pool or darts, and generally shoot-the-shit. They are not above "danceable" songs. They just subscribe to a different category of "danceable." The songs you dance to in these bars don't have driving bass or drum machines. The type of songs you dance to in these bars are the songs that those obnoxious ass-shaking songs sample to death. They consist mostly of classics that get you moving because they have a genuinely rockin' melody and catchy chorus. They are the songs you automatically sing along to because, whether or not you know the name of the song or who sings it, you know the lyrics.
So the next time you're at your favorite bar talking with your friends about your favorite movies of all time and some obnoxious lush stumbles over to the jukebox and turns the place into a bump-and-grind sweat box, do what I do: scrape up ten dollars among your friends and put on the next two hours' worth of music. You will be doing everyone a favor by clearing the place of excess skin.
Here are ten songs I like playing at bars:
- Miss You — Rolling Stones
- Feeling Alright — Joe Cocker
- Superstition — Stevie Wonder
- Born to Run — Bruce Springsteen
- Could This Be Love — Bob Marley
- Mr. Jones — Counting Crows
- Penny Lane — The Beatles
- Good Vibrations — The Beach Boys
- Brown Eyed Girl — Van Morrison
- Bicycle Race — Queen