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Ravina Rawal
Q.E.D.

Five perfectly good songs that we’ve ruined for ourselves forever

Welcome to the Hotel...NO

ooping your favourite song is one thing, the sort of thing we can totally get on board with even, but there's a difference between a scratched record, and a record that is broken because you played it so much that it made someone angry enough to punch their fist through it. The unchanged popularity of these songs at bars and parties across the country is the reason why retired musicians come to India for their octogenarian gigs, and still have sold out shows. A neat little pension plan if ever there was one, but that's no reason for me to feel the need to stick my head into a hot oven so often. A blanket ban on the following, please:

Hotel California, The Eagles

You know how long The Eagles have been around? Forty three years. You know how many years it feels like they've been playing this song at bars for? A hundred. Multiplied by 17, plus 22, into 10 factorial, raised to the power infinity, where BODMAS is king, and we are the lowest common denominator. I digress because I now want to think of ANYTHING (even math) but this song before it gets stuck in my head. Looped endlessly, crooned by live bands in every bar from Goa to Jalandhar, and the most thumbed-through page in every karaoke booklet, this smash hit has an audience that includes everyone. Which used to be a good thing, till it became the thing that made Hotel California the song that checked out, but could never leave.

Summer of '69, Bryan Adams

Truly a summer that seemed to last forever, but with this one still a popular go-to for bars and radio channels across the country, any memory of the best days of my life has been wiped clean. Good thing I can now usually no longer hear a note over the sound of nails that I voluntarily drag along the blackboard because that's what I'd rather listen to if my only other option is Adams' 1985 hit. I don't care if there's free beer to be had; Summer of '69 is the song that signals my exit from any place, even if I just got there.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Cyndi Lauper

Quickly look for a table of girls as soon as this song comes on at the bar you're at. Having fun? Boy, are they ever! Riddle me this, girls who love this song so much: when did it become okay to publicly humiliate yourself? If girls just wanna have fun, then why in heaven's name aren't you having any? You can sing along till you're blue in the face, insisting that's exactly what you're doing, but to me it always looks like a coma would be more enjoyable. Unless you really are having the time of your life, in which case you know what it looks like to the cute boys you're likely eyeing across the room as you're getting your Lauper on? Crazy town.

I Will Survive, Gloria Gaynor

Oh, hell no. Gaynor may have had all the right intentions, but she needs to get on out from inside her grave and take it all back. A karaoke favourite, most people's highly passionate rendition of this song is generally alarming. I'm sure you'll survive, but I won't. So it doesn't matter what's making you feel this song so deeply, if you're going to make my ears bleed, I'm going to high-five you, in the face. In its original form (before you guys get to it, basically) it's a song about "the discovery of personal strength following an initially devastating breakup." Did you know that? No. Because you thought Oprah Winfrey sang it, which just makes me wish Dr Phil would hunt you down and give you a good talking to.

We Will Rock You, Queen

This one makes it to the list because of the general public's repeated attempts at trying to insert expletives into the chorus of an otherwise perfectly U-rated anthem. We will, we will, f**k you? Really? Must you? Even when it makes zero sense? Who are you talking to, anyway? The song doesn't care, and Freddie Mercury is dead, so I assume it's to the other people on your miserable table? Can't you just flip your annoying friend the bird on your own time? Must you encourage the DJ to play this night after night, week after week, month after month, year after year, decade after...I mean, it's only still the pride of his set-list because of your misplaced enthusiasm and frankly, you need to put a lid on it.

 
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