The invention of the jukebox gave drinkers the power to set the musical vibe in barrooms across America.
And for that, bartenders, servers and bouncers have been forced to suffer through long shifts listening to a drunkard's favorite song over and over and over again until hearing a perfectly good tune becomes, well, complete and utter torture.
That’s all I could think about after checking out my colleague Tanveer Ali’s map of favorite jukebox songs in different parts of town.
I immediately felt sorry for bartenders in Bucktown suffering through the ZIP Code’s top song, “In The Air Tonight,” by Phil Collins, not to mention bouncers in Lakeview tortured by that part of town’s number one pick, Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space.”
During my time slinging drinks and checking IDs on the North Side, I was tortured by “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash — a favorite of too many boozers with a buck to feed into jukebox and a limited musical diversity.
Maybe that’s why bars I like best don’t leave the DJ duties to people pounding craft beers and sucking down shots of Old Crow.
Three Aces co-owner Anthony Potenzo says allowing customers to pick the music makes about as much sense as letting them cook their own food.
“Digital jukeboxes, f--- no,” Potenzo says. “We’d get some chooches* in here playing Kanye West ruining the vibe. There’s no Taylor Swift playing at my joint on Taylor Street. No way.”
I headed back to the North Side to get a little perspective from honest bartenders who aren’t afraid to tell you the truth about the potential negative effects directly caused by a drunk guy’s access to a jukebox.
For some bartenders, perfectly good songs played on repeat have scarred them for life.
That’s what happened to David Aksland before he took over behind the bar at Green Eye Lounge — a place tucked under the Western Blue Line Stop that doesn’t have a jukebox.
“When I was working at Goose Island in the late ‘90s and they’d play The Pixies 'Gigantic' five times a f------ shift, and there was a guy who’d play every Frank Sinatra song, which drove me nuts as well,” Aksland said.
“And when I hear those songs it brings me back to the days of wearing that stupid black polo shirt and giving out samples of every beer we had on tap. Bad memories.”
In some cases, poor jukebox etiquette can be hazardous to a bartender’s health — or at least slaughter her patience.
At The Four Treys, a dive bar that once sponsored my softball team, bartender Jenna Litherland says she sometimes gets tortured by young ladies with a strange obsession with the Swedish singer Robyn.
“They’ll come in and play 'Dancing On My Own' four times in a row,” Litherland said. “Seriously. Four times in a row. Why would you do that? It’s so annoying. It’s like they’re killing me, slowly.”
My pal, veteran bartender Liz Salas-Shores, wants you to stop playing “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke, “Happy” by Pharrell and since we’re talking “that Go Cubs Go” song or anything by Nine Inch Nails while she’s behind the tap at Wild Goose in North Center.
“Oh, and that song that just says ‘I don’t give a f---.’ Over and over,” she said. “Ugh.”
Frankly, she’s had enough.
Over at The Green Lady, a craft brew spot in Lakeview, owner Melani Domingues might be the exception to the rule.
“I’m pretty good at tuning things out. It’s probably because I have a 4-year-old and I taught myself how to do that,” she said.
“The only thing is when people play songs that ruin the vibe. Like when someone plays slow songs on a busy Saturday night. No one here’s getting up to dance, you know. And when they play 'Hold On' by Wilson Phillips. That’s probably the worst one.”
My last stop was at the Bob Inn in Logan Square to chat with the owner, Jimmy Hanson, a guy who knows how to suffer through songs he hates.
“Well, I can tell you that after 25 years all the songs on that jukebox haven’t changed and get played too much,” Hanson said.
"But nothing is worse than “The End” by The Doors. Nothing. I hate that song more than any other song. I hate it every time it plays.”
The point of my short journey back to the North Side wasn’t to criticize drinkers’ taste in music — even though some of you should be taken to task for your poor choices in barroom tunes.
Consider it a friendly reminder that the songs you play may cause the folks pouring your drinks to suffer certain level of anxiety and emotional turmoil that might scar them forever.
If you don’t care about that and just want to hear your favorite Taylor Swift song three times in a row, fine.
But just try to be kind … and leave a good tip.
*(Chooch is Italian slang for blockhead.)
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