The Song Society Forgot

A potent indignation has been growing in me these last few days.

It began innocuously, as most things do—I was watching the World Series, and a commercial came on. Something to do with paint, or a house, or a hardware store. I don’t remember. What I do remember is the soundtrack. Because the soundtrack contained the most exhilarating fifteen seconds in music.

The fifteen seconds themselves, of course, are not that exhilarating. They’re great—don’t get me wrong—but what really gets the heart pumping when one hears them are the six minutes and 59 seconds the heart knows are going to immediately follow.

I’m talking about this:

I don’t know much about The Spinners. I don’t know if they were actually called the Detroit Spinners or if whoever posted that to YouTube just made an oops. I don’t know what other music they created, or how long they were together, or anything of that nature. I’m no musical expert. But I do know this: The Spinners created the greatest song that never gets included in lists of greatest songs.

Save me your “Hey Jude.” Spare me “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Keep “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.”

Worse still, “The Rubberband Man” doesn’t even get included in playlists of songs-that-get-the-people-going, the way “Mr. Brightside” and “Shout!” and “Love Shack” do.

For what cause?

Why, as a culture, are we not recognizing Rubberband Man as a song deserving of being played so much our children recognize it by the time they’re seven years old, and are filled with fervent respect?

This needs to change. It needs to change about thirty years ago. But since it didn’t change thirty years ago, it needs to change now.

So promise me this: Promise me that the next time you’ve got the playlist in your hand, and the clock’s winding down on the previous song, and the queue is empty, you’ll get “Africa” by Toto the hell out of here. Promise me you’ll play Rubberband Man. Promise you’ll do the just thing.

It won’t make everything better in an instant. But it’ll be a start. Because change, as Smoky the Bear taught us, begins with you.