2005-01-04

Round at my manager’s place again, after closing up the bar, fairly pissed after five (six?) post-last-call beers and then some. He rummages through his CD collection. “My flatmate has some weird stuff,” he says, holding aloft ‘Bossanova’ by the Pixies.

“Dude!” I exclaim. “That’s the Pixies!”

Blank silence.

“The Pixies!” I continue, undeterred. “If it wasn’t for the Pixies, the whole nineties alternative scene might arguably never have happened.”

More silence, most pointedly from the eighteen-year-old who has recently been enthusing about the latest Good Charlotte video.

I try the anecdotal approach. “When I broke up with my ex, the only time I cried was when we had to split the CD collection and he took all the Pixies albums.”

Still nothing. Fucking Philistines.

A Phil Collins video comes on the telly. “Great song!” says my manager.

These are truly the End Times.