I work in the music department of a bookstore. I get some odd requests. I get some bad requests. And then I get requests which are just plain frustrating. Frustrating because the customer is wrong. But “the customer is always right” so I can’t say anything.
For instance, today someone came up to me and said, “I’d like some real country music.” Ok, I can do that. Johnny Cash maybe, or some bluegrass. But no. “I hate bluegrass.” whined the customer.
Ok. I gave him a Johnny Cash cd and told him to give that a spin. A few minutes later he handed the cd back to me. “No, I mean real country. Like they play on the radio.” Oh. That kind of “real” country.
That stuff isn’t any more real that Britney Spear’s breasts. I don’t care if you like that kind of music, just don’t call it real country. Of course, I can’t tell the customer that. It wouldn’t make a speck of difference, anyway. The customer would just look at me and wonder what planet I’m from.
So I told the customer about the Buddy and Julie Miller cd. Buddy Miller is the guitar player for Emmylou Harris. They have that “real” country sound while, supprisingly, keeping it real. They have intelligent lyrics and play music because they love music, not because they want to play country.