Country 1 Punk 0

With a sense of impending doom, I watched her pick up the microphone as we played the introduction. She took a breath and started to sing.

By | Mon 30 Aug 2010

N N Nah (2 3); N N Nah (2 3); N N Nah, N N Nah, Na N Nah (2 3)…

“Turn it down!” a voice shouted behind me. Not Mrs. D, whose musical taste ends at 1963, but from Daughter #2. A teenager. A young person. Surely she understands the importance of playing AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” with the volume turned up to 11?

Could just be retribution for my incorrect naming of one of the recent teen sensations to Justin Beaver. Amused me no end as it sounded like a description of a certain stage of the sexual act. Anyway, Justin Bieber is no longer up there in her affections so maybe not.

Still – she should be able to appreciate my need for rock at 110 decibels…but no. Music continues to be one of the major sources of arguments in the Daring household with each person showing complete intolerance for the others’ choice of tunes.

For example, whenever we go anywhere, there is a fight to get the cable connecting our car stereo to our respective mp3 players/phones. The winner basks in the glory of their own choice while the other two whine all the way there. Heaven help us if Mrs. D wins as she insists on singing; blessed with the musical talent of a brick, this can be a bit of a problem.

When D2 was a few years old, one of the first sentences she made up by herself was “don’t sing Mummy, it’s dangerous”. Always thought she was smart. Many years ago Mrs. D decided she would like to sing a song with an amateur band I was in. My arguments fell on tone-deaf ears and using her (back then) stunning figure to her advantage, she got the other band members to agree.

With a sense of impending doom, I watched her pick up the microphone as we played the introduction. She took a breath and started to sing. We changed key three times in the first two lines as we tried to keep up with her, but alas, it was to no avail. It was left to me to wrestle her away from the stage as the audience dissolved into fits of hysterics and the band pretended that it was our humorous interlude of the evening.

Still, we laugh about it today. Well I do, but for Mrs. D, it is just added to the list of things that she can dredge up as necessary. It came up again last week, something to do with not respecting her but I wasn’t really listening. Karaoke is not on our list of fun evenings together and music is just something else that we agree to disagree on.

Doesn’t stop each of us trying to convert the other of course; this is a marriage after all. For example, she likes country music and I don’t. I have never driven an 18-wheeler across the prairie whilst my platinum blond girlfriend called Mary-Sue-Ellen McGraw works behind the bar of a diner and is having a fling with the man who brings the ice. I don’t understand the world they sing about.

Having sat through one of her favourite songs, I needed something to start my pulse again. ‘London’s Burning’ by ‘The Clash’ – perfect. As I tried to explain the musical relevance of Joe Strummer, Mrs. D’s eyes glazed over. To emphasise the point I said “Look – this is how I used to dance 40 years ago!” and started to jump-up-and down vigorously on the spot as high as I could whilst shaking my head and jerking my arms like I was having a fit. Thirty five seconds later I was lying on the floor with a seized back. It passed after 10 minutes but the smug look on Mrs. D’s face will be etched in my mind for a lot longer.

Not being allowed to lift the rafters with AC/DC, I looked for another song with a classic introduction. Ah yes…a bit of Status Quo’s ‘Whatever You Want’.

Da-diddley-chunka chunka chunk; da-diddley chunka chunka chunk; da-diddley chunk; da-diddley chunk; da-diddley chunka chunka chunk…

“Too loud!”/”Boring” came two simultaneous cries behind me. I quickly changed the iPod to ‘D-I-V-O-R-C-E’ with an evil glint in my eye as Tammy Wynette sang through her nose. Unfortunately, the looks in the eyes of Mrs. D and D2 were far worse. A further quick change to ‘Stand By Your Man’ and they both walked off shaking their heads.

At least I was no longer the centre of their attention and country music had saved me. Still don’t understand why Mrs. D likes country so much? Maybe she secretly dreams that she is Mary-Sue-Ellen from the wilds of the mid-West. Blimey – I better make sure that my big-rig is parked in the right spot just in case!

10-4 y’all. ‘Deliverance’ seems appropriate. Cue banjo.

(Repeat several times) Diddle-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding
(Repeat several times) Diddle-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-
(Repeat the above twice and here comes the difficult bit….)
Diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle…and fade…