Hostel Musings

I don't like to complain. Really, I don't. But enough is enough. Australian radio is the bane of my existence. It's--gasp--worse than American radio. The repetition might kill me. The radio at Noah's is always tuned to the same channel by popular demand, and I'm not allowed to a) switch it, or b) turn it off.

At first it was cute. I was all "omg I hear the song 'Tik Tok' allllll the time." Now, however, every time I hear a clock ticking I'm tempted to smash it against the nearest wall. I'm permanently haunted by teeny-bopper artists such as Ke$ha and the pre-pubescent Justin Bieber. I don't even know why people like Justin Bieber anyway. He's, like, 4. And his singing makes me cringe the same way I used to cringe whenever there were camera close-ups of AJ Mclean and Howie during Backstreet Boys music videos.

Admittedly, I have a few favorites. Owl City's "Fireflies" or Passion Pit's "Little Secrets" never fail to make me feel like I'm listening to what I think a rainbow with unicorns and butterflies leaping and fluttering repeatedly over and around it might sound like. They make me happy--so much so, I often encourage my customers to approach me only when either of these two songs is playing. (Note: I also kind of love "I Like That" by Richard Vission & Static Revenger. There's something about the lyrics "I like the Gucci Gucci, I love the dollar bill, I love your pocket rocket, We live to shock it shock it" that really speaks to me...Or it just makes me want to dance all crazy-like. Same thing.)

Other than that, the rest of Australia's "hip" five-song musical repertoire just doesn't quite cut it. While I even kind of liked Jason Derulo for a bit, he was quickly black-listed upon the 123019238th replay of his latest single "In My Head." No, Jason, your song is in my head, for which I don't think I'll ever quite be able to forgive you.