Then, one day, I had this song in my head I couldn't get rid of.
It started as this little snatch of notes ricocheting off the windmills of my mind before it fell into a puddle and the expanding rings went looking for a lyric.
It went like this:
Lawnchairs are everywhere
I could hear the affected, faux-Brit voice singing above the electronic drumbeat rhythm.
My head would doddle and it swam around and around. I knew that I could not remove it until I exorcised the musical demon.
So I opened the boxes and went digging through the albums until I found it.
A black cover with a bucking bronco built from the green stick-figure digit parts from every 80's clock radio.
The EP title, Digital Cowboy, angling away from the center.
And the O.M.D. knock-off band: Our Daughter's Wedding.
Not even one-hit wonders.
But I bought the album and I had to hook up the Bang & Olufsen Beogram RX2 into the decidedly 90's surround-sound capable Sony and pump the circa 1981 slice of pre-techno New Wave out my speakers into my head to join the lingering memory echo. Suddenly, I was on the floor digging them all out.
All my old friends in their cardboard sleeves.
Genuine VH1 Flashback time.