In the good old days I never went to clubs where they played bad music. In the good old days I didn’t even dance to bad music. In the good old days I intentionally danced as horrible and lame as possible to bad music. Quite an achievement knowing my dancing capabilities. In the good old days I even tried to make the needle jump if the DJ dared to play a bad record. Granted, it wasn’t me alone, this could only be achieved in a group (in close cooperation with a specific type of dance floor).
These days I’m back at that level again, minus the needle jumping. However, roughly between my 23rd and 40th I was nicer, almost tolerant and definitely more forgiving. It could still get too much. ‘Wake me up (before you go go)‘ never seized to be the musical equivalent to a medieval chamber of horrors (or a Guantanamo Waterboarding session for that matter), but during that time I danced to far worse, almost cheerfully, without using E.
In the early 90’s I got liberated from dogma and from fear. The Berlin Wall fell, semi-permanent nuclear fear disappeared, all of a sudden there were plenty of jobs, even for psychologists like me. We had Grunge, and a fusion between electronic and rock music called Big Beat I could even dance to. Life was great. The future was bright. Even the ridiculous and very British battle between Oasis and Blur was nothing more than a good joke.
It couldn’t last. After 9/11 terrorism took complete control, in 2008 the financial system collapsed, and in 2010 we lost a third World cup final. No one smiled anymore, everyone was angry. After 2010 no bad news would surprise me anymore. No bad music would be tolerated anymore. I tried out tolerance. It didn’t work.