Gimme All Your Lovin' - ZZ Top (mp3)
|Like most unattractive redneck men, ZZ Top's schtick|
was about suggesting that unattractive redneck men
could somehow pull in legs like these.
The bearded banditos never disgusted me or left me cold, but I never recall sitting somewhere and thinking to myself, “Boy, I sure could use some ZZ Top right about now.”
“Tush.” “La Grange.” These deserve consideration in the extended list of classic rock greats. And to this day I suspect their video for “Legs” assisted me in my long-overdue leap to puberty. But beyond that, nothing much sticks.
If all this is true, why would I have recently purchased Rancho Texicano: The Very Best of ZZ Top on Amazon?
The 2 CD set of 36 songs and two remixes (dance remixes?? oh hell to the yes!) was on sale for $2.99 at Amazon. The math was pretty compelling, obviously. Each song would cost me roughly $0.12. If I was just purchasing the three songs I enjoy and appreciate for the standard $0.99 each, the other 33 would be free.
This is how our buy-happy minds rationalize things, you see.
So why spend $3 on 38 songs I’ll likely never love, only a half-dozen or so I’ll ever even remember are in my collection? Is $3 my ZZ Top Price Point? Do I feel I’ve made a wise fiscal decision?
If you’re reading this, and you’re not a die-hard ZZ Top fan, how many songs can you casually list off the top of your noggin that you like? Five? If you can name more than eight ZZ Top songs, you’re probably a fan. (To be fair, the same could be said of Rush.) Assuming you don’t believe in stealing music -- which is a big assumption in 2012 -- are your musical tastes dictated by price points, by the radio, by the stubborn insistence that “newer music” isn’t worth your time? What fuels your musical engine?
Because I’m still stuck in the philosophical land of wanting to “own” music, the mythical Price Point concept is a central driving notion. Hell, two years ago, I bought Katrina & The Waves’ greatest hits (25 songs!) because I could get it for $3. Katrina and the fucking Waves. A band with one recognizable song, and I bought their Greatest Hits. (And don't it feel good! Hey!)
|The Nice Price was a clueless adolescent's way of identifying|
those albums which, while of questionable value, were less
costly were the decision to be an inexcusable fuck-up.
Alas, record stores are like pit bulls at the Vick estate, and Nice Price Stickers are relegated to Google Images. Nowadays, I frequently take the freebies offered by iTunes and stay sharply attuned to the sales and specials in Amazon.com’s mp3 store. The $5 offers are nice, but you don’t get my full attention until I see that precious, illogically-seductive $2.99 offer.
So, dear reader, do you have some musical Kryptonite? Something that leads to illogical impulse purchases of music you might live to regret owning? ‘Fess up. No one’s reading anyway!