Today I was doing a bit of lazy shopping in our corner market, which I suppose is too large to be called a corner market but too small to be called a supermarket. At the time of day I usually go (mid-morning), the place is mostly populated by Turkish mothers, many well on their way to grandmotherhood. I blend in well enough, because although I don’t have any children in tow, I’m the sort of age that I could be on the younger end of their spectrum, and I don’t generally aim for “glitzy” when I get myself dressed in the morning knowing my only destination is the grocery store. The result is I’m camouflaged in this environment. They think I’m one of them.
During this morning’s visit I was reminded yet again that I keep meaning to blog about the strange music soundtrack in this market. The management (or whoever’s in charge of these sorts of decisions) has implemented a steady stream of techno and trance hits that perhaps would be more at home in an 18-30 club on a Friday night than in a suburban corner market in the middle of the morning. Most of the music selections are harmlessly out of place, but today as I was browsing by shelves of pasta and canned vegetables, I was astounded to find the rousing strains of Peakafeller’s “She’s A Bitch” (mp3 excerpt NSFW) making their way to my ears at quite a respectable volume.
It was comically surreal to watch mothers with their young children walking around the store, oblivious to what they were hearing. I laughed quietly to myself and headed to the dairy products. Oh well— I suppose having this song in the market is no more offensive than a string orchestra muzak rendition of “Paradise City.”