One of the first things I noted about my school in my recollection of my first day, is the constant presence of pop music. Or at least the predominantly hip hop, synthesized dance music that passes for pop music these days. Daily. Constantly. Relentlessly. Remorselessly – I am exposed to the soul-melting toxic waves that come out of one radio or another, probably sterilizing me or, at the very least, rendering my sperm retarded and my future offspring hopeless. My eardrums aren’t so much punctured from the din as they are branded with logos, mass-duplicated, and sold to children in pop music crack houses.

In case you’re new to this blog: I absolutely detest pop music.

I don’t think of it as “music” really, but rather an artless, sleazy commercial product with no originality, no soul, and no guts. Its marketability is of greater import than its merit as an artistic statement, and therefor the music all sounds the same to me: find the formula that sells records, and duplicate the formula. Find someone who looks good in a bikini, use auto-tuners and harmonizers on her porn-movie voice so it’ll sound like someone with vocal talent is doing the singing, pick a synthetic musical background out of a book and hire some dancers. Bingo! Pop music for the masses. Teenage girls will love them. Meat market dance clubs will love them. All-nude full-contact stripper bars will love them. However, do you know who DOESN’T love them? ME!!

Naturally, that is the music that almost everyone at my school is into, and it’s what I hear all the time. They can’t have a moment without it, either. As soon as we are all starting up with some practical exercise someone will run up and turn on the radio and stick in a pop CD or radio station. They turn it on and then turn it up. They turn it up and they sing along with it. They all sing along with it. Half a dozen young girls playing with dolly hair, singing softly along with every lyric of every pop song that comes on the radio. I will tell you truthfully that THAT is a “girl thing,” singing along like that. One of the many things I’ve noticed upon entering the world of women, the obsession with singing. I don’t really understand it, but then I don’t have to – I’m a guy. Guys don’t sing along together to songs on the radio.

Plus, why am I being subjected to so much music from my own teenage years? When I was in school I don’t remember a whole LOT of being subjected to music from the 50’s and 60’s, however, 80’s music seems to have integrated itself into the modern norm. Most of all, I am hearing Michael Jackson every damned day. OK so he’s dead, I’m really sorry for all you Jackson fans out there, but were you listening to THIS much Jackson music when he was actually still alive, or is it just an extended wake? I can’t get away from this guy! Having been a teenager in the 80’s I had Michael Jackson practically rammed down my throat (yes yes I know, I see it too), now it’s more than 20 years later and I STILL have to listen to these tired old songs every damned day!

The other day, however, I was offered a rare treat. One of my friends in school was looking through the stack of CDs, looking for Michael Jackson (yes, even the people I genuinely like are not immune to the siren’s call) and found a Stevie Wonder CD in the stack. When she asked if I would like to hear that one my jaw just dropped. “Are you telling me that I’ve been listening to all this Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake bull***t for the past three months, and during all that there has been a Stevie Wonder CD in there the whole f***ing time?!?! PUT IT ON IMMEDIATELY!!”

Stevie Wonder started to play and I was feeling a little taste of bliss. Good music. Soulful music. Undeniably modern classic music. I was so pleased with familiar and pleasant sounds that I could almost forgive all the other girls for their musical crimes against my brain. I was ready to get right up and start learning a new haircut with added pep in my step.

“Hey, who’s this?”

The question sent shivers down my spine and set my hair on edge. I turned and look to make sure I heard correctly. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?” I was hoping to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Who is this on the radio?”

Oh my, just what do you say to that? What is your reaction when, as the rest of the class trickles in from lunch even MORE of them are asking that same question. Mind you, this wasn’t some esoteric B-Side track from one of his less-remarkable albums, this was “Superstition.” How could these people not know who Stevie Wonder is? Their tender young age cannot be blamed, my younger siblings know who Stevie Wonder is. Other younger people I’ve met knew who he is. For chrissakes – he sung at our president’s inauguration less than a year ago!! These girls are just… musically defective!

Only two more weeks down in the classroom, before going upstairs to work in the salon area. Only two more weeks of listening to the same songs from the same artists every day. I think I can handle it just a little while longer. No need to call in Amnesty International to rescue me from this inhumane torture, I will survive this horror and become all the stronger for it.