Sunday, November 14, 2004

Walkmans and Wry Smiles

Yaaay! Having just received one online comment already, I am taking this as carte blanche to infect the old Internet with more of my ramblings.

I’m not saying my campus is bleak, but it was used as a location for a post-apocalyptic movie and does have its eerie days, like Sundays when I work one of my shifts at the bar. As a PhD student, you’re on campus all year round and semesters don’t exist as such. During the summer it’s deserted and one gets the feeling you'll bump into Adrian Tripod, but come September, thousands of students descend like a chattering alien race. In these periods, a Walkman is an essential item to drown out the constant pretentious babble, like overhearing someone defining Synaesthesia loudly and wrongly in a coffee bar.

I love the secret soundtracks produced by listening to music in this way. Although not as bad as that fabled ‘C’ Nathan Barley, I am usually thinking of some kick-ass and as yet unmade movie like Judgement on Gotham or Marvel UK’s transdimensional technology thieves The Warheads.

Anyway I usually walk around campus with a wry smile, because I’m usually surreptitiously listening to songs like this, which I have compiled below in a sort of sleaze song compendium:

Peaches: Fuck the Pain Away
Add N to (X): Plug Me In
Electric Six: Naked Pictures of Your Mother
Tuscadero: Latex Dominatrix
Goldie Lookin’ Chain: You’re Mother’s Got a Penis
Lucy Bogan: Shave ‘Em Dry
Barrel House Annie: If It Don’t Fit (Don’t Force It)
Phyllis Dillon: Don’t Touch Me Tomato
The Moldy Peaches: Downloading Porno With Davo
Ween: Mister Richard Smoker.
Beck: Sexx Laws
Lunachicks: Butt Plug.
Pulp: Pencil Skirt.

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