More Drinks

Strawberry Jam Is The Best Jam

Chapter 5 - More Drinks

Anecdote three. Actually, there was a little bit of an anecdote in that last chapter wasn't there. The bit where I was unfairly called "boring," so I guess it's anecdote four. This one is also night out related. Well, more evening at the pub related, but these days it's the closest we get.

It wasn't quite a pub where you drink shots of vodka, more a place where the people drink real ale. The type of people that like obscure real ale, from obscure little breweries, with funny little names. Where each initial sip comes with commentaries about the tanginess or fruitiness. The "grassy, earthy" flavour, or the "caramel" or "liquorice-like" aftertaste. The "Ooh, isn't this obscure." It comes with many of the pretensions you might normally associate with wine tasting. Though more beardy, and absent the elegant women.

It was also an arty, music type venue. Folk nights, open mic nights, quiz nights, arty spoken word poetry type nights. You get the picture. I'd came to see my friend play, so was in a friend of a friend type situation. On my own and talking to people that I vaguely knew through this one friend. Naturally music came up as a topic. I was asked by one guy what I'd been listening to. (Sorry for the sense of déjà vu.) We had another Spice Girls situation on our hands. This time it wasn't quite as bad. I'd been listening to funk music. Nothing obscure, just 70s chart type funk, blending into disco. The sort of stuff you get on re-runs of Top of the Pops.

I'd always hated funk and disco music growing up. I put this down to cultural bias in retrospect, as I foreshadowed in the second chapter. I grew up in a white, melodic rock household, so funk and disco were a bit foreign and unfamiliar. Again, it's similar to food. We like what we're familiar with, so unfamiliar things fill us with a sense of discord and apprehension. It takes a little bit of effort or cultural conditioning to overcome this. The first time I had Uncle Ben's Spicy Mexican Rice I was in uncharted territory. Now I eat it every week. It takes time to try new things, there's the danger you might not like it if you try it. If you're hungry it's easier to "just have chips." The familiar groove. The dependable, if boring, sense of fulfilment.

Anyhow, over the years my bias against funk and disco had gradually softened up. The odd song had made it through my defences. However, what had pushed me this time was simply the fact that a 70s radio station had been on in the background at work. I found myself singing along to a few of the songs (in my head, not out loud, I'm not that brave at work). Like with the Uncle Ben's rice, or should I say Ben's Original now thanks to woke-ism, I'd found a new taste I liked. "I quite like these adzuki beans," I thought, "..whatever they are." So I went home, searched on YouTube, and added the new songs to my roster.

Funk music is actually quite cool, so it shouldn't have went down too badly, but we were dealing with real ale drinkers here. I said "Funk" in response to the question, there was a slight look of disappointment, followed by a hopeful, "What type of funk?". When I said "'Upside Down' by Diana Ross, just that type of stuff," it sealed the deal. Any friend-of-a-friend reputation I had for being interesting went in a little beardy puff of smoke. They wanted some priestly baubles, some esoteric delights. They didn't want to be discussing music that normal, everyday people listened to on the work radio. Like with the ale, they wanted something with the appearance of novelty. A rare flavour. A sense of exclusivity.

"These people can't appreciate that strawberry jam is the best jam," I said to my friend as we walked home afterwards.