I Still Like the Band. Just Skip That Song

Are there bands that you just don’t like? Or do you like the band, but can’t stand some of their songs because radio ruined them by overplaying them?

My sister hated the Eagles. I have no idea why, but she didn’t want to hear them. Growing up, we only had their two Greatest Hits albums. So I guess it’s possible she just got burned out on them. I like the Eagles, but now I lean towards the deep cuts that radio didn’t ruin.

The Dude didn’t like the Eagles either, but they never explained why in the movie. In a 2012 interview with Michael G. Plumides Jr., Jeff Bridges said, “That was a character I played, man. No, the Eagles have made some good music and I don’t hate them. But every time I see one of those guys at a party around town they give me a dose of shit.”

But this article isn’t about the Eagles. It’s about what happens when a song you used to love becomes one you can’t stand to hear. Sometimes I still like the band. I just wish the radio would remember they recorded more than five songs. And I wonder if a song can ever find its way back once I’ve burned out on it.

There’s a difference between a band that never clicked with me and a song I liked until I’d heard enough of it to last a lifetime. Coldplay falls into the first category. Their music has never done much for me. There wasn’t a falling out. We never had a relationship to begin with.

Other artists are more complicated.

I used to love Bruce Springsteen, but I have to skip “Born to Run” when it comes on. It was just played way too much in my lifetime. I know it’s a good song. I just don’t need to hear it again right now. Or possibly for quite a while.

The same goes for almost anything from Born in the U.S.A. That album is a strong reminder of high school, but I have a hard time listening to most of those songs anymore.

That’s an odd feeling. Usually, the connection to a time in my life makes me want to hear a song. But sometimes even the memories aren’t enough to overcome how many times I’ve heard it.

The exception is “Glory Days.”

“Glory Days” means something different at 59 than it did in high school. I was 17 when it came out, and it didn’t resonate with me until years later. Probably because I was thinking about the glory days in my own life.

At 17, I had a lot more ahead of me than behind me. A song about people looking back was something I could listen to without thinking much about it. Now I have more of my own stories to bring to it.

Maybe that’s how a song makes a comeback. You leave it alone for a while, live a little more, and hear something you missed the first time.

“Stairway to Heaven” is another song I used to love but can’t listen to anymore. I remember KY102 doing countdowns of the greatest rock songs, I think every Labor Day. “Stairway” always seemed to finish at number one. Every year. After a while, even the countdown got predictable.

I still enjoy plenty of Led Zeppelin, but these days it’s mostly the deep cuts. My favorite is “Tangerine.” Getting tired of “Stairway” doesn’t make me want to hear the rest of their music any less.

“Free Bird” is another song I’ve grown tired of. I had a DJ friend, Slacker, who would let me sit in the booth during his show. He could play Lynyrd Skynyrd and soon after someone would call to request Lynyrd Skynyrd. He told me it happened all the time. According to him, Kansas City was a Lynyrd Skynyrd city.

Apparently, some listeners couldn’t get enough. I eventually did.

My wife and I spent a weekday on Lower Broadway in Nashville, stopping in the different bars. At one of them, a young guitarist and his band were playing. He announced that if they got enough tips, they would play “Free Bird.”

I told him I would give him $20 not to play it.

He didn’t think I was very funny.

They played it, and I have to admit they did a pretty decent job, especially the dueling guitars. I can appreciate a band doing a song well, even when it’s a song I thought I never needed to hear again.

Slacker also got me the Bob Seger tickets that I previously mentioned in My Best and Worst Concert Experiences. Seger belongs in this conversation, too. I got tired of “Old Time Rock and Roll,” but I still love the rest of his music. My favorite is “Even Now.”

The Rolling Stones are still one of my favorite bands. I get a little tired of “Start Me Up,” but I enjoy most of their songs. My favorite is “Hand of Fate.”

So there’s no consistent rule here. Some songs wear out their welcome, while others can stick around for a lifetime.

Then there are bands where the music isn’t the whole problem.

I used to love Mötley Crüe. Now I can barely stand to hear them. I would like to say it’s not them, it’s me, but it’s not. Their history has a lot to do with no longer needing them in my life.

The sole exception is “Live Wire.” It’s a great song from their first album when they were still raw. For whatever reason, that one still gets through.

I don’t have a consistent rule for separating musicians from their behavior. Apparently, I can be done with a band and still make an exception for one song.

With Oasis, I bought the album and thought it was okay, but the Gallagher brothers’ brashness eventually became a turnoff. I got tired of hearing about them as much as hearing their music.

It’s hard to get excited about putting on an album when the people who made it have started getting on your nerves.

Nirvana was different. I liked the band when I bought Nevermind, but I got sick of it because it was overplayed. Eventually, the repetition, their bleak outlook, and the pedestal critics put them on wore thin on me.

Being told how important a band is doesn’t make me want to listen to them. I bought the album because I liked what I heard. Somewhere along the way, that enjoyment got lost.

I can understand that an artist matters to other people without wanting to hear their music myself. There are plenty of records I love that someone else would happily go the rest of their life without hearing.

Then I wonder how the artists feel. If I’m tired of hearing a song, imagine playing it night after night for decades. I can skip it. They have an audience waiting to hear it.

John Mellencamp has resisted turning his concerts into a greatest hits show. The latest tour I saw was him embracing those songs again, including some he hadn’t played in years. I can understand wanting to do something different when you’re the person who has to sing them every night. But I can also understand the fans wanting to hear the songs that made them buy a ticket.

Somebody in that crowd is seeing the artist for the first time. Somebody else has waited all night for that one song. Maybe the artist is tired of playing it, or maybe hearing the crowd sing it back makes it fun again.

Jimmy Buffett embraced that part of the job. His concerts had the familiar favorites known as the Big Eight, and he understood that people wanted to hear those songs. He could work other things into the show, but the audience came with some expectations.

As Buffett told interviewer Gary Graff, “We like to keep ’em happy…and maybe throw a curve ball at ’em every now and again.”

And despite everything I’ve said about overplayed songs, I never grew tired of “Margaritaville.”

Maybe that’s something else I can’t explain. I’ve heard enough of “Stairway to Heaven,” but I always had room for another trip to Margaritaville. If Jimmy had left it out, I would have been one of the people wondering why he didn’t play it.

So I suppose I’m asking the radio to give the hits a rest while expecting some of my favorite artists to play them when I show up. Apparently, I have my own exceptions.

Queen is another band I’ve never grown tired of. My favorite is “Need Your Loving Tonight,” but I still enjoy the songs everybody knows, too. That’s what makes this hard to explain. Why have I heard enough of “Stairway to Heaven” for a lifetime, but Queen never seems to wear out its welcome?

Then there’s the Beatles.

How do I explain that I’ve never gotten burned out on any of their songs? There are some I don’t care for, but that’s just personal preference. Their original studio albums were all released before my fourth birthday, yet it is still refreshing to hear their music.

I can listen to “I Feel Fine,” “Help!,” “A Day in the Life,” or “Hey Jude” over and over and never tire of them.

It certainly isn’t because those songs haven’t been played enough. I’ve heard them on the radio and played them myself for decades. With some artists, I’m tired of hearing the same songs. With the Beatles, I’m choosing to hear them again.

Then again, I don’t listen to the radio very much anymore. I tend to listen to the music in my collection or the playlists that I’ve made.

Maybe choosing is part of it.

There’s a difference between pulling out an album because I want to hear it and having the same song find me every time I turn on the radio. With an album, I get the songs around the hit, too. I might even find myself looking forward to a song I would have skipped if it came on by itself.

That’s one reason I lean towards the Eagles’ deeper cuts now. They give me a chance to enjoy the band without feeling like I’m listening to the same greatest hits album again.

I don’t know that there’s a formula for any of this. Some songs wear out. Some stay with me. Others apparently need a few years off before I’m ready to hear them again.

“Glory Days” found its way back. The Beatles and Queen never left. “Born to Run” is still going to have to wait.

After all that complaining about overplayed songs, here are some I apparently haven’t heard enough. I put together “Songs I Should Be Sick Of, But I’m Not,” featuring music from the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s that was part of my growing-up years. I’ve heard these songs countless times, and I’m still happy to hear them again.

What about you? What song did you think you never needed to hear again, only to find yourself enjoying it years later? And which one still makes you reach for the button?