In recent months, I have become a corporate whore with one of those job things and a desire to spend all my disposable income on unfairly priced consumables sold by big chains that are slowly but surely destroying our society. But rather than address my own willingness to conform to the consumerist dream, I’m going to pick on the bits I don’t like about these places like a spoilt brat with an overwhelming sense of entitlement.
It must be hard for Starbucks to source their music. I’m curious as to what supplier has such a wealth of indistinguishably cultural artists that are so inoffensive, they wouldn't be able to drown out the quietest of conversations - even if the conversation was two mice whispering secrets to each other and the music was played through a Spinal Tap amp on 11. It’s as if lift lobby muzak had an illegitimate child with the ‘Garden State’ soundtrack, only for the disadvantaged bastard to be adopted by Norah "I Am Disgracing My Dad, Ravi Shankar" Jones and Chris "Dontplay My Records, They're Abysmal" Martin. Every piece of music at Starbucks is more generic than the last, with each resounding note of the homogenised cultural mash-up further cementing the coffee chain as the epitome of cosmopolitan venues (and therefore, the meeting place of yuppies and Sex & The City fans alike).
I'm going to level with you, Starbucks. I don’t think pumping your coffee shops with pseudo-ethnic and adult contemporary music is convincing anyone that your business is anything but a big, fat, slobbering American monster with its chubby sausage fingers forcibly clutched around the throat and wallet of modern society. We know you’re all about the dollar and, frankly, I don’t think anyone cares anymore. Just be honest and we'll be honest with you. You want our money so you can take over the world and we want those Frappuccinos because they’re awesome. Mutually beneficial. No amount of smooth jazz is going to change that.