I found myself in an interesting situation this weekend. Went to a party with The Wife on Friday. It was a small gathering and there were four other guys there. Three of these guys went to high school 4-8 years before me. All of these guys considered themselves music lovers.
For two hours the center of discussion was: hair bands. They all universally loved hair bands. An unnerving love, a love that really should not speak its name. Megadeth, Warrant, Scorpions, Motley Crue, Whitesnake, Ratt, Skid Row, etc. They were all mentioned numerous times. To the point where the host ran to his basement to show off his meager collection. To his credit he crowed over the wonderousness of Guns ‘n’ Roses and Soundgarden.
It was eerie how long this conversation continued. I couldn’t believe the vast number of past-their-prime hair-band concerts these guys had attended. I’d say each of them had seen a minimum of three such concerts in the past eighteen months!
Well, they talked about a couple other things. The host was going to go on a week-long vacation loosely based on the book Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer. Yes, he and his family were going to rent a RV and hang out with the Alabama Crimson Tide fans as they trekked to a rival road game. (Granted this guy is a high-school football coach.)
And they were all in agreement that Wedding Crashers was much better than The 40-year-old Virgin. The humanity!