24 August, 2009
A guilty pleasure is a thing that brings joy; but one would, I assume, want to keep secret. I don't have a single guilty pleasure. Oh, I like things that people make fun of me for; but they aren't secret and I feel no guilt regarding them.
I love Duran Duran. For a Rolling Stones fan, that might seem to be a guilty pleasure. However, Duran Duran introduced me to import music and the world of independent record stores. I would never have shopped outside the mall for music nor read great publications like The NME or Crawdaddy had it not been for my search for the acoustic version of "The Chauffeur" which was the b-side of an obscure pressing of the "Rio" 7" single. Were it not for my desire as a kid to hear the remix of "Tiger Tiger" available only on a 12" remixes compilation which was exclusively available in Japan, I never would have discovered Husker Du, The Replacements, or Dead Kennedys. Simon LeBon's off-key crooning of "Save A Prayer" was the least of my concerns as I hunted that 12" single, for there was a remix of "Hold Back the Rain" secreted on it's flip side and that was my absolute bestest most favorite Duran song of all time. While I was there, I also picked up a used copy of Nashville Skyline, my introduction to one Robert Zimmerman.
Wearing my love for these New Romantics on my sleeve opened the door for lots of other little pleasures for which I hold no regret: TV's Big Brother, the campy 1966 version of Batman, Def Leppard, Dolemite, McDonald's, and that greatest of all pleasures, Miller High Life.
Too much concern is given to what others think of us. Me, I'm too busy drinkin' and listening to "Girls on Film" to care.