Day 118: I Consider Compilation CDs

From what I gather, most people stopped making compilation tapes when they were fifteen. A boy would nervously "make a tape" for a young laydee, carefully choosing a suitably woebegone image to cut to size and insert into the case. The Smiths would usually have to feature to prove that he was Sensitive; if he liked pretending to be a bit depressed (in the mistaken belief that Being Depressed Makes You Seem More Interesting), he would probably put a bit of Joy Division on it. Meanwhile, back in bedrooms across the land, young laydees were making tapes for their friends. If you were very unlucky, you'd get Altered Images and The Eurythmics.

Me, I was listening to Dire Straits when I was revising for my O-Levels. I hate Dire Straits with a passion, but for some reason their first record (on tape, of course), provided exactly the right tone for Geography. (I got Grade C.) I never made compilation tapes, though. I thought they were sad. I started late, you see.

I went out with someone once who sneered (in my car, as I was driving him somewhere nice to do something nice): "Oh, you and your iTunes playlists". (We split up soon thereafter.) But in very recent memory, I have been given compilation CDs by Gentleman Callers ("This is a bit ... depressing. But Interesting." Like him, without the interesting bit, if I remember rightly.) My friend Louis always makes me compilation CDs ("Guess what it is, Monkey. Guess. Yes! They're all songs about giraffes!"), as does my friend M in Scotland. And I cheerfully make them back, unconsciously, humming a bit, drinking tea and looking out of the window.

The truth is, I'm a knobber. I have an iPod (or three). I have iTunes. I have CDs that fall on my head when I open cupboards. I am aware that it is Very Difficult to be a Laydee and like the music Very Much without men getting huffy. (Music is a Man Thing, like fupbal.) I still remember being sneered at by someone to whom Cool was important in my car, and it makes me go a bit hot and feel that I have to make Excuses for myself. But why deny myself this Simple Pleasure? Everyone knows I'm a knobber, and I haven't been cool since 1993 (and that was only briefly), and about two years ago for about a minute in France.

I have Decided. I shall embrace my knobber-dom. I shall make compilation CDs fearlessly and with Enthusiasm, and adhere to the following rules:

1. The name of Monkey, do not think about it too much.

2. Never put something on that you don't really like because you think it will make you look clever and interesting. (This is the same as reading books you don't enjoy so you can sound like a cleverclogs at dinner parties full of knobbers. And no, reading Alain de Botton does NOT mean you Understand either Love or Philosophy. Also, his head is Disproportionately Large.)

3. Hope that the person receiving the CD will like two songs out of, say, 15. This is a Good Hit Rate. Do not try and make it so they will love it all. You Cannot Tell, and Cannot Guess.

4. They will not hate you if they do not like All The Songs.

5. But they have every right to hate you if you put James Cunt, Keane or Phil Collins on it.

6. There is nothing ironic about Yes, post-Peter Gabriel Genesis or Chris de Burgh. There is only a World of Pain.

7. Adjust the levels if you can. Elbow gave me quite a fright last week.

8. Do a list of Things On It if you can, otherwise it's annoying.

9. If you like it, do it. (I am hoping to create a Backlash so that I will feel less Ashamed. My strategy is to encourage everyone else to do it endlessly and without cease, so that making Compilation CDs is as normal as, say, eating cake.)

10. Do NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, try and woo someone back with a compilation CD. This only brings a World of Shame and will make your subject throw up on their shoes. ("You thought Macy Gray was appropriate? You are more chucked than ever, my friend.")

11. Equally, DO NOT compile a CD with 'hidden messages' in it. "In and out of love and institutions", "And I would give you my heart (that's if I had one)" may well be misconstrued.

Two things will now happen. My esteemed readers will turn away in disgust, or will Support me in the Construction of Compilation CDs. Me, I'm going to the Post Office to send a compilation CD or two to Canada. All that remains is an anxious week waiting to find out if I'll have to cancel my flight in December.