I guess when you have “doobie” right in your band name, it would make sense that your music gets mellower … and mellower … over time.
There are some things I have an intense and possibly unhealthy passion for. In the food category, peanut butter and plums. In music, Donna Summer. I know, I know—”Adam and Steve” blah blah blah. I said it was possibly unhealthy.
My old roommate Bobby (sorry, “Robert”) was always trying to get me to listen to people like Django Reinhardt. I thought he was just being a snob. Later he became a travel writer, living in places like Paris and Brazil. So I guess “snob” means, “way more cultured than me.” Sorry, Robert.
Two words: Salt Peanuts.
For anyone who thinks disco wasn’t “important, interesting, or influential,” consider the number of rock legends (McCartney, the Stones, Bowie, Rod Stewart, Queen, the Kinks, etc., etc.) who “went disco” in the late 70s. Of course, all those songs sucked—which makes sense, considering that all these “legends” were old white British guys. But still.
As a 6th grader in the late 70s, nothing beat practicing the steps to the “Saturday Night Fever” dances while waiting for the school bus—at least until Mr. Ryan came outside and said to stop acting like a girl. Sometimes being a gayboy-in-training in mid-Atlantic suburbia was not a lot of fun.
How smart were Dire Straits? They wrote a song mocking MTV for allowing people with no musical talent to become famous—and then became superstars when the video for that same song became one of the most popular MTV offerings of all time. That’s pretty smart.