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Neville Brothers disagreement
Thursday, March 11 1999
While I was working on my writing, Kim decided to play me some loud Neville Brothers from her stereo in the living room. It's good old-fashioned down home New Orleans feel-good funk, with a little gratuitous Grateful Dead pointlessness thrown in. I didn't pay close attention, but it rather reminded me of the live music one generally hears at frat parties. As you might imagine, I absolutely loathe the stuff. So I turned on a classic rock radio station in the computer/massage room and rocked out to a little vintage Foreigner. It's not great stuff, but I know where it comes from and where it's going in its well-defined three minute lifespan.
Hot blooded
Check it and see
I got a fever of a 103
Kim asked me if we were having "stereo wars" and I said that I supposed we were. "It's the Neville Brothers," she said, "and we'll be seeing them when we go to Jazzfest in New Orleans." "That's unfortunate," I replied. We ended up having an especially awful fight, with her calling my music tastes "narrow" and implying that I lack worldly sophistication. She tried to convince me that because Trent Resnor (Kim is an experienced name dropper) and other progressive pop musicians are Neville Brothers fans, the band must be total voodoo. The other argument she made went something like, "But, it's New Orleans music!" She eventually conceded that the Neville Brothers are the sort of band that really can't be adequately appreciated unless one sees them live.
The Neville Brothers argument inevitably led to an argument about the New Orleans trip, a vacation for which she has already bought airplane tickets. I've never had any input on her plans for this trip, though periodically she tells me where we'll be staying, how late we'll be staying up, how cool her New Orleans friends are, and how much fun we're going to have. I've never once expressed any interest in the trip. I feel like I have no choice in the matter; I'll either meekly go along like some beaten-down hound dog or else suffer from another of her fits. So tonight I told her I could care less about her New Orleans friends, that in San Diego I was starting out fresh and that the past no longer held any interest for me. I told her that I feared that during our stay in the Big Easy, she'd be dragging me all over the place "by my ear." She was horrified by my invocation of such imagery.
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