PAGE 1: THE DIAGNOSIS
Dan sits slumped in the exam room, legs dangling, hands folded like someone awaiting a final verdict.
Dr. Levinson walks in, glancing at the chart. “Okay, Dan,” he says. “Tests are back. Bloodwork looks good. Cholesterol’s down. Blood pressure’s stable. Good, good. You’re eating better. Exercising. Should be feeling pretty much normal.”
He pauses and sighs, eyeing Bob’s defeated posture. “So let’s figure out what’s still dragging you down.”
He holds out a hand in a ‘gimme’ gesture. “Let’s see that phone.”
Dan hesitates. “Wait—for what?”
“C’mon, open it up. Let’s see what you’re listening to.” Levinson takes it, scrolls, winces, sighs.
“Jeez, Dan. Look at this… it’s a Dad Rock graveyard. Steely Dan. ELO. Fleetwood Mac. Five different ‘Best of the Doobies’ playlists? And what’s this—Yacht Rock Essentials Vol. 7?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is worse than I thought.”
“That… bad?”
“Sonically? At these levels, it’s toxic. You’re over-saturated with nostalgia. You’re stuck in a feedback loop of laid-back grooves and mellow harmonies. This is pap, Bob. A saltine cracker. No wonder you feel numb, your entire musical diet is soft, beige, and vaguely ironic.”
Levinson taps out a referral on his tablet. “Here comes your Rx… Don’t worry… we’re gonna save you, Bob.”
PAGE 2: AFTER-VISIT SUMMARY
THE CLEANSE BEGINS Three Phases. (No skipping, Bob!!!)
Phase 1: The Purge
- Delete all ‘Daily Mix’ playlists. Block Spotify DJ.
- No more Doobie Brothers until further notice. Actually… they may not be coming back. (I’m trying to save your life, Bob.)
- Temporary suspension of Peter Gabriel, Dire Straits, and anything with a fretless bass.
Phase 2: The Fast
- 48 hours of no music. Silence only. (This will hurt. That’s the point. Let the absence recalibrate your nervous system.)
Phase 3: The Rebuild
Morning Start with something angular and unfamiliar:
- Snapped Ankles – “Hard Times, Furious Dancing”
- Squid – “Cowards”
- The Comet Is Coming – “Code”
- Automatic – “Excess”
Midday Global rhythms only. No English lyrics. Try:
- Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou (Benin funk)
- Altın Gün (Turkish psych)
- Gilberto Gil or Os Mutantes (Brazilian Tropicália) Challenge yourself, Bob. Starbucks’ global mix doesn’t count. (Stop being so damn white.)
Evening Post-rock, ambient, or sonic decompression. Try:
- Biosphere – “Substrata”
- Stars of the Lid – “And Their Refinement of the Decline”
- Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith – “The Kid”
- Brian Eno – anything after 1980, but NOT “Another Green World” again
Midnight Snack East Coast rap, old-school soul, or R&B.
- Ghostface Killah – “Fishscale”
- D’Angelo – “Voodoo”
- Aretha, Donny Hathaway, Curtis Mayfield—real food, Bob.
STRICTLY FORBIDDEN: Supertramp. Toto. Anything labeled “Chill Vibes.” You are not allowed to “ease into the groove,” Bob. The groove is what broke you.
PAGE 3: SIDE EFFECTS & FOLLOW-UP
FOLLOW-UP IN TWO WEEKS
Side effects may include:
- Sudden interest in record stores
- Increased tolerance for dissonance
- Spontaneous head-nodding to rhythmically complex music
- God willing, you’ll be able to get rock hard again and the wife may take an interest in you again (And remember, Bob—no socks and boxers in bed.)
If symptoms of smugness appear, lower dosage of Talking Heads immediately. -Darbalu 03/2025
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