Lessons from the Land of Pork Scratchings by Greg Gutfeld

Author:Greg Gutfeld
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon and Schuster

49. THE STONE ROSES

There are more than a dozen pubs in my neighbourhood, and by now I’ve figured out who goes where. The Goths go to the theme pub on Wells Street, the women with prams go to the gastropub on Foley Street, and the coked-up divorcees hit the wine bar on Dean Street. I go to the empty pubs with bad carpeting. I like empty pubs because in them I find people like me who prefer empty pubs. I like the King and Queen. It’s never crowded and the people seem every bit as antisocial as me. The only aberration is the strange-looking folk music club that meets upstairs every Monday evening. They are a frightening-looking group, snaking up to the first floor of the pub around 6 p.m., carrying oddly shaped cases containing instruments no one plays any more. I imagine they’ll be reciting Shakespearean sonnets upstairs while plucking on a zither. I try not to make eye contact as they move by us. They have an air of superiority about them. Somehow, I blame Bob Dylan for this.

A group of us are currently sitting around a middle table, on our third or fourth round, and big opinions about small things are starting to take shape. More precisely, an argument over the Stone Roses. Vic, sitting across to me, maintains they were the greatest British band ever. To my right, Dave points out that they only put out a few records, and only one of them ‘wasn’t shit’. Dave thinks the only group that truly matters is Radiohead, the delightfully upbeat band that are strangely derivative of the Monkees.

I feel like I’ve been here before. In America, we call this ‘high school’. But then I remind myself that I experienced this same argument last week, around the same time. It’s called the Stone Roses vs. Radiohead argument.

I’ve never heard much of the Stone Roses. They never made it big in America, but to some young men in Britain they are Godlike, the greatest, and they’re always fodder for passionate conversation. Passionate annoying conversation. I am convinced the Stone Roses existed primarily to instigate heartfelt, nearly violent arguments as to why they are the greatest band ever. It’s a band that exists not to listen to, but to fight about.

The ‘who’s a better band’ argument is the staple of a pub night–a conversation that never happens in America, because we simply don’t care enough beyond our own problems to discuss the merits of some band. In a British pub, if you were talking about any band, whether the Beatles or the Bees, some guy would inevitably mutter, ‘They aren’t the Stone Roses.’ Actually, if you were talking about groundbreaking medical procedures, whether it was coronary artery bypass grafts, balloon angioplasty or a vasectomy, some guy would inevitably mutter, ‘It’s not as good as the Stone Roses.’

I love this. In the US, we don’t have pub arguments because we don’t have arguments. When Yanks fight, there has to be a foreseeable conclusion.

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