Inspired by the Four Drunks Playing Goldentee and Bad Music

Jukeboxes are great things. At a bar, you can pick whatever you'd like to listen instead of whatever crappy music the management may pick. However, where I work, I'm lucky that everyone has good (or at minimum, acceptable) taste in music. When we pick jukebox songs or our satellite radio station, it's usually palatable. Right now the GM has it on the oldies station, which he finally changed from weeks of 90s music.

Certain managers have better tastes in music. For instance, the GM likes classic rock. The rock band managers lean toward metal. We also have feminist music and varying levels of indie rock, depending on who's picking.

During our three trivia nights, we pause the jukebox to let the Trivia Masters pick the song between questions. Undoubtedly Thursdays are the best. I haven't worked a Tuesday or Wednesday in a long time, but I remember the old Wednesday woman used to play Britney and other similar such music. She was nice, but man, her taste in music was definitely lacking. (Another reason the Thursday folk are the best: They always tip the server for taking up the table.)

Corporate restaurants usually have a license agreement to play a specific playlist or CD for which they have purchased the rights. Unless you work for a club or venue that pays rights to BMI, SESAC, or ASCAP, you're in for a terrible time. When I worked at Friday's a couple years ago, I hated the soundtrack. There would be a few diamonds in the rough, but let me tell you: There are only so many times you can hear "Margaritaville" to promote the summer margarita flavors. And, heaven forbid if I didn't get enough Christmas music from B98.5, I'd still get a healthy dose from work.

I've actually never put money into a jukebox, even though I praise royalties. My boyfriend likes to play "Brown-Eyed Girl" and "Pretty Young Thing" because they're our songs. My friend Jane pumps jukeboxes full of money for her music every time we go out. Certain patrons here play the same music all the time. For example, when Kid Rock and Korn are playing, I know the pointy-beareded guy is at the bar; when hip hop and Prince blasts from the jukebox, I know Slim is here. When Phish and the Grateful Dead play, I know Brian or a similar hippie has put in a few bucks. Slim in particular avoids trivia nights so that he can play Jukebox DJ.

Bad taste gets old quickly.

To sum up what I feel about jukeboxes and poor music, this is a sign I wish we had on our jukebox:



[Photo taken at The Nook with my terrible cell phone camera.]