My grandmother’s wake and funeral were — of course — very, very sad. I think one of the things that bothered me the most was the music at the wake. It was so … depressing. Now, my grandmother was 86 years old before she was killed by the incompetence of morons; she wasn’t exactly a fan of rock n’ roll. So I didn’t expect them to be playing Def Leppard in the funeral parlor, y’know? But anything would have been better than the canned funeral parlor soundtrack.
I can only hope that when I’m gone someone has the balls to bring an iPod to the wake. And please — if you’re going to even have a wake for me — do it in a house for the love of God. And bring some Maker’s Mark and vodka. If there’s one time when it should be completely acceptable to tip one back, it should be at my freaking wake. So anyway. Don’t play “Ave Maria” or Mozart (although I do loves me some Wolfgang). You don’t have to blast the stereo or anything and start a dance party. But at least listen to something I would have liked.
Here are a few of the songs that you should play, in no particular order:
- Any Other Name
from the American Beauty soundtrack by Thomas Newman - Let It Bleed
from the album “Let It Bleed” by The Rolling Stones - Bonnie Brae
from “Powder Burns” by Twilight Singers - Maps
from the album “Fever to Tell” by The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs - Temporary Like Achilles
from “Blonde on Blonde” by Bob Dylan - “Abbey Road”
the whole album, start to finish, and sing along - Everybody Loves Me, Baby
from “American Pie” by Don McLean
And if you simply must play something really, really down, make it “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes. I love that.
When you are gone, David.. I’m going to play all the top starred songs from your play list here at Radio B! for three weeks in a row.
I’ve got some Bloodhound Gang for you dude. Got a favorite track or should we just put ’em on shuffle?
I’ll be sure to loop Christopher Cross’ “Sailing” at graveside. You would’ve wanted it, I would explain. And when everyone reluctantly agreed, I’d turn to your casket and whisper “Gotcha!”, but you’d be dead, and I would probably say something like, “Oh, oh yeah. You’re dead. Hey, someone stop the music. I just realized David isn’t with us any longer, and so he’s not here to appreciate the joke. I’m….I’m sorry.” And then when everyone nods in agreement, I’d be like, “SIKE!” and crank the song right back up, only this time, there would be dancing and snap-n-pops. Funeral goers and priests HATE snap-n-pops.
I of course will be playing our favorite song from John LaJoie.
Nothing but the best for my friend David. When someone asks me how I’m feeling, I’ll tell them that I don’t have feelings cuz feelings are gay.
I’m sorry about your Grandma. That sucks, for lack of a better and more meaningful term.