None. none songs. IMO, the answer is none songs. If an entire bar starts jamming out on some redneck all american classics you hear about three times a night, I leave the bar. Its not the bar for me. In fact I have a physical reaction if I hear the song Sweet Caroline. It makes me feel like I’ve died and gone STRAIGHT to hell. In fact I believe my own personal hell would be a bar full of losers singing sweet caroline. or sweet home alabama. or american pie. or devil went down to georgia. or bohemian rhapsody. or ROCKY TOP of any of the other kitschy bar songs that they play over, and over, and over, and over…and over, and over, and over, and over (and over) that apparently I’m supposed to be a good sport about because I was born and raised in Nashville which everyone in san francisco thinks is some sort of party trick or novelty act. And for that matter, don’t get wasted and rock out to lynard skynard, crazy lady with a mullet, and tell me you are from the south when what you really mean is the south side of chicago. [/rant]
whoa… that got out of hand really fast. sorry i’ll stop being a wet blanket.
I was drunk the day my Mom got out of prison…
I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get there in my pick up truck
She got run over by a danged ol train…
So I’ll hang around as long as you will let me
And I never minded standin’ in the rain. No,
You don’t have to call me darlin’, darlin’
You never even call me, I wonder why you don’t call me
Why don’t you ever call me by my name.
The one and only time I have seen every single person in a semi-crowded bar drop everything and raise their voices in sloppy, drunken unison, it was to this timeless classic: