As a follow-up to last week's post about there not being a lot of boys named Gary anymore, I promised to tackle girls' names next. And Sam was once again very helpful, particularly when this song popped up on an in-car mixtape...
Still one of Paul Heaton's finest hours, that - and I love the guest appearance by George Michael in the video.
Anyway, as the song played, Sam told me, "there's none of those girls in my school."
(I had to search for that one. Not enough songs about girls called Philippa. There was a Pippa in my 6th form. I fancied her. No chance. She went out with my mate Simon.)
So then, I hear you ask, if Sam doesn't go to school with any of the girls above... what are his female schoolmates called? Well, he knows at least five girls called...
As with the boys' names then, there's been another major shift in what parents are choosing to call their kids these days... and the most popular names are ones that would mostly have belonged to old people when I was a kid.
It's also highly unlikely that Marie will be the name of anyone's latest flame in Gen A... making all these old songs sound even more out of date.
There hasn't been much to laugh about at Top Ten Towers over the past couple of weeks, thanks to various automobile-related shenanigans, but hopefully the end is in sight for all that and I'll be rolling in the aisles again soon.
Anyway, last time we did one of these, I pondered a question about whether we can still laugh at a song even if the music doesn't naturally fall under our area of acceptability. Mainly because I'm drawn to things lyrics-first, although I know lots of you aren't. Ernie, for example...
While I enjoy a good lyric as much as the next person, they aren't the most important bit for me. For example, I listen to a lot of African music and I can appreciate the quality of the singing and music without understanding a single word.
Many's the time I lament the fact that my lyrical focus stops me properly appreciating other musical stylings. When I read Ernie's African series, for example. Or when I listen to some of the tracks Swiss Adam shares. Or when Ben pesters me to listen to more Mogwai.
Notice that they remembered to sing something on that one!
C also responded to my question, in a post which featured lots of songs by Flight of the Conchords...
Interesting question you pose there and I think that yes, I need to enjoy the overall music first in most cases - but not always. If the lyrics or the humour really pull me in then they can override in some instances, so it's interesting how much weight we give to each aspect really quite unintentionally.
Unfortunately I have something of an aversion to the FoC, and it's got nothing to do with their music or their humour, it's simply down to the fact that I had a friend some years ago who was obsessed with them and he overwhelmed me with their material: "listen to this", "listen to this again!", "you must hear this one", "this is SO funny", "listen to this again!" on and on and on and on and as a result I have a strange gut reaction that has turned me right off ever wanting to hear them again; there is something about being force-fed humour which has the opposite effect. Which is a shame, because I do know they are clever, musical and funny.
It reminds me of something we looked at in the old Self-Help For Cynics series (which will return one day!)...
There’s nothing more guaranteed to make me instantly predisposed to dislike someone than being told that I’ll love them.
Why does this also apply to humour? How many times has Louise made me watch something on the interweb that she found really funny, only to notice that I'm not reacting in the same way she is... and then come out with the internet equivalent of, "well, I guess you had to be there". And I'm sure the same thing happens when I show her something that has tickled me. Bear in mind that Louise and I have pretty compatible senses of humour - it's one of the main things that stops us killing each other.
I guess it's also the same thing I write about a lot when I do my Year End reviews - too great an expectation can stop me enjoying something in a natural, organic way. If the critics all love a movie, I go in there expecting to be blown away... and often come away disappointed. Whereas if I'd seen that same movie without any of the hype... I'd probably have appreciated it a lot more.
Turns out scientists have a name for this phenomenon (of course they do!) - REACTANCE.
According to iffypedia...
In psychology, reactance is an unpleasant motivational reaction to offers, persons, rules, regulations, advice, recommendations, information, and messages that are perceived to threaten or eliminate specific behavioural freedoms. Reactance occurs when an individual feels that an agent is attempting to limit their choice of response or range of alternatives.
So when C's friend keeps telling her to love the Conchords, C's brain goes into reactance overload.
Reactance can occur when someone is heavily pressured into accepting a certain view or attitude. Reactance can encourage an individual to adopt or strengthen a view or attitude which is indeed contrary to that which was intended — which is to say, to a response of noncompliance — and can also increase resistance to persuasion.
And the more he tries to persuade her, the more C's brains digs its heels in, creating and strengthening those neural pathways we talked a lot about in the Self Help series.
When I think about the funniest film I ever saw - the film which still makes me laugh every time I see it (and I've seen it a lot) - it's interesting to note that the first time I saw it was at a late night critic's preview when I knew very little about it and had no pre-conceived notions. I'd read no reviews. Nobody had told me "you've got to see it, it's hilarious!" or anything like that. I went in there and made up my mind with complete freedom.
I'm not going to tell you what that movie was (some of you probably know) because I don't want to trigger your reactance. Of course, that also means that every time I recommend a tune on this blog, I run the risk of reactancing you... so maybe it's time to stop talking about stuff I like in case you think I'm stealing away your freedom to make up your own mind.
Blimey, for a series about humour, this post's been a laugh a minute, hasn't it?
Here's a song I thought was very funny when I was a kid. It probably isn't that funny almost fifty years later. I'd not advise you listening to it, for the risk of reactance. In fact... Don't look, Ethel!
Dear International Academy of Digital Arts and Sciences,
Considering your Committee decided not to give me the Webby
Award For Blogging Excellence for having written my amazing blog for almost
14 years now (not to mention the even amazinger blog I did for 6 years before
that!), I no longer feel an obligation to think purely of blogging, although it
will always be predominant, but can now think about what is good and proper for
the people of Top Ten Towers.
I have done more for blogging than any other person since
the internet was built in 1975 – in fact, I was blogging before that and using
carrier pigeons to deliver my hand-scrawled music reviews to all my readers –
and I was only three years old at the time. In fact, I landed a boat on the
blogosphere long before any of your committee even knew what boats were and
this was truly the most amazingest thing because 3 year olds can’t normally fly
boats. It’s time the blogosphere did something for ME! The World is not secure
unless we have Complete and Total Control of the blogosphere.
Thank you.
WRH.*
(*I wrote this post pm Tuesday. By Wednesday night, parts of it were out of date. That's the trouble with trying to write satire these days - unless you get it out there immediately, the Orange Dictator will have changed his mind again. I'm writing this addendum at 9pm Wednesday night. I fully expect that by the time it goes live on Thursday morning, he will have invaded Iceland, sent missiles to Mark Carney's golf club, and pledged to knock down all the wind farms in Europe. I give up. I'm going back to writing about music.)
You can pretty much tell AI didn't come up with that image, can't you? What can I say, I'm an old-fashioned guy, and I wanted a picture of a square dude holding a camera. Unlike yesterday when I showed you one of the residents of Albert's Square holding a camera.
All in aid of - with great thanks to our resident Maths teacher, George, for suggesting the theme and many of the tunes - songs about Square Numbers. Working our way from the square of 15... down to the square of 1.
Even though I'm not a football fan, I've been enjoying the show Ted Lasso very much. Louise got bored with it towards the end of the first season, she said it was trying too hard to recreate the "feelgood" tone of Parks & Recreation... and I can see what she means... but I'll take my feelgood anywhere I can get it these days.
Anyway, I finally had time to watch the end of Season 1 over the Easter holiday, and that last episode had me in tears on more than one occasion. I can see perfectly well that the show is emotionally manipulative, but so much TV leaves me feeling absolutely nothing these days, so I think it's worthy of note when something breaks through my cynicism.
There was one line in particular that made me hit pause until I had time to collect myself and carry on watching. It worked in the context of the show, but it spoke to me beyond that... and made me grateful for what I've got.
There is something worse out there than being sad, and that is being alone and sad.
We watched the movie Carry On starring Jason Bateman and Elton John over Christmas. It's basically a PG version of Die Hard II. Even worse, there's no sign of Babs, Kenneth, Jim Dale or Sid...
