For some inexplicable reason this afternoon, I felt an urge to hear “Driver’s Seat” by Sniff ‘n’ The Tears…
…a 1979 attempt to triangulate the realms of AOR, new wave, and power pop which was a minor UK hit back in the day and utterly forgotten now.
Whenever I stream any bit of pre-1995 music on YouTube, I make a point of checking out the video’s comments section. I know such behavior is frowned upon in saner circles, but how else am I going to collect the umpteenth variation of “this is REAL music not that crap Macklemore bulls**t idiot kids listen to today” for my vital research?
While there were a satisfactory number of comments to that effect, my eye was drawn to a particular exchange which offered up a non-contextual glimpse into realm of raw derangement.
Check out the embedded video above and attempt to work out how many leaps of twisted logic it took to go from “almost forgotten 1979 rock song” to “utterly batshit, first-draft-written-in-feces manifesto.”
The answer is “one.” One phantasmagorically reflexive leap. These loose cannons are always primed and awaiting anything resembling a suitable target. I know this because in the early days of AT, I had a friend who gave an initial impression of being pleasant and high-functioning (if a bit overeager and clingy) yet would launch into fucked up, syntax/grammar/punctuation-optional rants any time he navigated to a message board or forum page. He wasn’t a wingnut type, but he did possess that odd “this must be as obvious to everyone as it is to me” quality common to these folks.
I used to feel bad about freezing him out of my life, but I have no doubt I made the right decision.