AAVR Magazine

Musical Mates: I Wanna Rock With U

So I’m one of those awful people who likes to laugh at bubbly, elated, [shameful] celebrities who rave endlessly about their new found true loves, only to have these same significant others suddenly leave them for the nanny, the manny, rehab, etc. Schadenfreude, meet Shibow. I think we can all agree that seeing entitled, pampered, smug bastards (but just the smug bastards, not the regular bastards) fall from grace is a bit tickling.

Perhaps that bit of thinking has come back to bite me in the booty. Yes, dear readers, “new flame” has become “extinguished flame.” Let us all take a second to mourn (and then take that second right back). In my defense, I wasn’t fawning all over the damn dude, but I’ve typically considered myself to be of the don’t-talk-about-the-mofo-unless-you’ve -made-it-through-a-season-together mindset. But hey, I thought it would benefit the last story to present that relationship as a disclaimer. Who knows, maybe he took me seriously and found himself terrified by the idea of having to compete with Urkel for my heart. Dumbass.

So anyway, sure, it’s always a bit sad to have to say farewell to that special (or, you know, “special”) someone, but I think it can also afford you — well, me — the opportunity to reflect on the relationship and decide what is and isn’t acceptable behavior. Now, readers, before I continue, let’s keep in mind that this is Shibow talking. If I wanted to make a behavioral do’s and don’ts list, I’d have to first deny any and all involvement in this , and Mama wouldn’t lie to you. This, kids, is Shibow’s Musical Musts.

Now, of course, I don’t expect any guy I date to like all, or, really, any, of my music. So this isn’t really that kind of list. Cheesy as this may sound, and I know it will sound very cheesy, my music is a part of who I am. That screen name you click on with the away message about how “I can’t be your friend/unless I pretend?” That’s very likely my screen name, and it’s very likely a lyric from a song close to my heart. So I’ve decided, in my own words, to basically use this space to give ya’ll a little more insight into the heart of Shibow than a simple away message could.

I don’t expect you to like Wilco, I expect you to listen to Wilco. Of course, this could apply to any of the many bands I heart, but seriously, if I give you a song, just listen to it. Listen to a snippet of it. I listen to the songs you send me. Really I do. Also, anyone who’s dated me knows I’m not much of a talker, so if you’d like any insight into what I’m really like, listen to the friggin’ song I ask you to listen to. No, I am not really an American aquarium drinker (that’s a reference to a Wilco song, guy I sent a Wilco song to. You’d know that if you’d listened to it. I know you’re probably now kicking yourself for missing out on that one.), but Jeff Tweedy’s voice could send me into a crying fit on any given day. So at the very least you’d learn I was a baby. Wait…

Dude. I’m trying to tell you about Once. For the two people who know me but don’t know this about me (Note: if you’re one of these two people, do not admit to it. You’ll regret it.), pay attention: Once is one of the greatest films of our time, and certainly the best musical that’s been made in my lifetime (though, considering I’m in my early twenties, there really wasn’t much competition to begin with). Pretend to pay attention when I talk about it. Again, as I don’t tend to talk as much as listen, give me these few minutes to rant on this film. Also, if you aren’t listening for whatever reason, do not admit to it, even if your reason for not listening is “I was thinking about how pretty you are.” That’s stupid, and probably not true.

Ok, well, I wasn’t really talking about substance abuse though. The following is an exchange that may or may not have happened between a first date and me…. or a friend of mine and a guy she went on a first date with… or maybe I made it up entirely:

Girl: I’m pretty heavy into music. Love, love, love music. Writing about it, finding new music…

Guy: Yeah? I did coke with Slash once.

To be honest, I’d never hold past drug use against a person. How much of an illegal substance you chose (I repeat, chose) to ingest in the time before (I repeat, before) you met me is your business, unless you’ve still got a dimebag stash you haven’t told me about. However, when we are speaking about a subject, and you suddenly feel the need to impress me with some sort of fact related to that subject (Note: Yeah, it’s sort of endearing, but not impressive, if you do it once. It’s obnoxious, and really not impressive, if you do it more than once.), make sure the fact you present is proportionately related to the subject at hand. Of course I’d love to hear that you hung out with one of the greatest guitarists of the past two decades. The image of the two of you rubbing crack remnants from your nostrils is something I do not need. Also, it’s a bit deflating to be interrupted in the middle of an extremely rare I-actually-want-to-keep-talking moment to hear about how spaced-out cocaine makes you.

And my music is lame? I once dated a guy who thought he was amazing at freestyle. He’d bust a rhyme that, well, didn’t really rhyme, with a rhythm that, um, wasn’t too rhythmic, to a beat he’d created that sort of had no beat. Now, I’m sure I sound pretty snooty in saying that, but I am actually a drummer, and have been for about 6 years now. I’m not terrific, but I know enough about percussions to know what’s good and what is absolutely disgusting. I’d never put anyone down for trying, and the reason I’m even commenting on his lack of abilities now is because he is the Devil. My problem with this, though, was his constant need to use my computer to create said crappy beats, often closing out my iTunes and/or Pandora (one of the greatest sins, in my book), without permission, deeming my playlists “lame.” My music is not lame. Your face is lame.

You like Nickelback…and that’s ok. One of the nicer guys I dated had musical tastes that didn’t dip very far below the mainstream top-40 level, which is totally cool with me. Though he knew very little about Turin Brakes, he knew enough to tease me about my love for “folk-y old man guitar music.” Teasing is cute. Teasing means you’re listening. This, we like.

I’m sure the shrinks out there will try to dissect this list and read into it for clues as to how I prefer to be treated overall by whomever I choose to date. Do it up. You may be right. I, personally, am far too lazy to analyze the above points for greater significance right now. Oh, and, uh, in case anyone thought I was, uh, like, sad or anything… I’m good, man. I’m totally good. I just, uh, you know… thought I’d give you all the softer side. Endear you to me and all that crap. Suck you in, basically.

Speaking of which, I think I’m due for a little Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

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