My friends and I sit around a table at Newcomb, listening to Lance Bass throw his career away as he announces the next hit pop song from 2006. The familiar beat of “The Sweet Escape” kicks in, and before I know it, Gwen Stefani is “acting like sour milk fell on the floor” all over the dining hall.
My smile becomes tense and my friends flash me wolfish grins. They know my deepest, darkest secret: I love No Doubt.
I have harbored this hidden passion for what feels like an eternity. I learned fairly quickly in high school that a playlist with “Hey Baby” and “Hollaback Girl” was not one that you wanted to show your friends. No Doubt and its now famous lead singer were my guilty pleasures, concealed from the world with meticulous caution.
This secret came dangerously close to being revealed on a recent trip to Las Vegas. As my parents ushered me around the strip, weaving in and out of casinos for the occasional slot machine break, we invariably passed by Madame Tussauds. Each day the museum displays a different wax celebrity on a photostage by the front door. By random chance, by the fates colliding in cruel and tempting ways, the wax figure of the day was Gwen Stefani.
“Who is this one? Is that Lady GaGa?” my dad asked, unable to see my widening eyes and rigid stance.
Never before had my resolve been so tested. My forehead blossomed with beads of sweat, my throat suddenly felt drier than the Sahara and my nails dug into my palms with furious self-control. I wanted to stomp my feet and say it was the greatest pop singer of the early 2000s. Instead, I mumbled, “I’m not sure. I, uh, I think that’s Gwen Stefani.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so worried, though, because everyone has their musical guilty pleasure and some are definitely worse than others. I still cringe thinking about the evening my dad confessed to liking one of Katy Perry’s songs. One of my close friends insists that “Don’t Drop That Thun Thun” has tangible artistic value.
The world would be a much brighter place if we could all enjoy these guilty pleasures free of judgement and derision. Maybe that starts with me not making fun of my hallmate when I find him listening to the Mulan soundtrack alone in his room. Perhaps a more troublesome confession than my soft spot for Gwen is the fact that, despite my own insecurities, I still readily poke fun at others for their embarrassing playlists. There are certainly more pressing issues in the world than Gwen Stefani discrimination, but maybe I can make someone’s day just a little bit easier by not lampooning him because he’s lip syncing “I’ll Make a Man Out of You.”
In the grand scheme of things, there are probably worse musical obsessions than No Doubt. I could be addicted to remixes of screamo and whale song or I could be a die-hard fan of the Macaulay Culkin parody band Pizza Underground. That said, I’m sure it will feel like the worst case scenario when my family reads through this column and barrages me with joking text messages — the secret is out now.
John’s column runs biweekly Fridays. He can be reached at j.benenati@cavalierdaily.com.
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