What Song Are You Listening To, Right Now?

Alright, here we go, a wild ride through the brain’s back alleys, starting with me scrolling X, minding my own business, when I see a meme of a cat in a mullet wig, and I’m like, “This is peak internet.” But then my brain does that thing where it hears “mullet” and immediately screams 80s hair metal—you know, the era of teased hair and questionable spandex. So I’m chuckling, picturing this cat shredding a guitar solo, and suddenly I’m humming something… what is it? Poison? Skid Row? No, it’s softer, sadder, like the soundtrack to a montage where the hero’s dog runs away.


I grab a coffee, spill half of it on my shirt because I’m apparently cursed, and now I’m thinking about life’s little tragedies—spilled coffee, lost socks, that time I waved at someone who wasn’t waving at me. My brain’s on a roll now, diving into this weirdly deep vibe, and I’m like, “Why am I getting emotional over a hypothetical dog?” That’s when it hits me: it’s that damn song. You know the one. The one that makes you feel like you’re staring out a rainy window in a music video, even though you’re just sitting on your couch eating Cheetos.


So I pull up YouTube, type “80s sad rock ballad,” and there it is, like a beacon of big hair and bigger feelings: White Lion’s “When the Children Cry.” I click it, and boom—those opening chords hit like a freight train of nostalgia. Vito Bratta’s guitar is weeping, Mike Tramp’s voice is pleading, and I’m suddenly 13 again, scribbling lyrics in a notebook, convinced I’m gonna change the world. I’m not even listening to the words at first, just vibing with the melodrama, but then I catch that line—“What have we become?”—and I’m like, “Damn, White Lion, you didn’t have to call out my entire generation like that.”


By the chorus, I’m fully in it, air-guitaring like nobody’s watching, except my neighbor probably is because I left the blinds open. The song’s got me thinking about everything—world peace, that cat in the mullet wig, the fact that I still haven’t done laundry. It’s absurd how a random scroll on X led me here, but isn’t that life? One minute you’re laughing at memes, the next you’re blasting White Lion, contemplating the human condition while your coffee stain sets in. And honestly? I’m not mad about it.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tatKFXlYiY
 
Damocles said:
Alright, here we go, a wild ride through the brain’s back alleys, starting with me scrolling X, minding my own business, when I see a meme of a cat in a mullet wig, and I’m like, “This is peak internet.” But then my brain does that thing where it hears “mullet” and immediately screams 80s hair metal—you know, the era of teased hair and questionable spandex. So I’m chuckling, picturing this cat shredding a guitar solo, and suddenly I’m humming something… what is it? Poison? Skid Row? No, it’s softer, sadder, like the soundtrack to a montage where the hero’s dog runs away.


I grab a coffee, spill half of it on my shirt because I’m apparently cursed, and now I’m thinking about life’s little tragedies—spilled coffee, lost socks, that time I waved at someone who wasn’t waving at me. My brain’s on a roll now, diving into this weirdly deep vibe, and I’m like, “Why am I getting emotional over a hypothetical dog?” That’s when it hits me: it’s that damn song. You know the one. The one that makes you feel like you’re staring out a rainy window in a music video, even though you’re just sitting on your couch eating Cheetos.


So I pull up YouTube, type “80s sad rock ballad,” and there it is, like a beacon of big hair and bigger feelings: White Lion’s “When the Children Cry.” I click it, and boom—those opening chords hit like a freight train of nostalgia. Vito Bratta’s guitar is weeping, Mike Tramp’s voice is pleading, and I’m suddenly 13 again, scribbling lyrics in a notebook, convinced I’m gonna change the world. I’m not even listening to the words at first, just vibing with the melodrama, but then I catch that line—“What have we become?”—and I’m like, “Damn, White Lion, you didn’t have to call out my entire generation like that.”


By the chorus, I’m fully in it, air-guitaring like nobody’s watching, except my neighbor probably is because I left the blinds open. The song’s got me thinking about everything—world peace, that cat in the mullet wig, the fact that I still haven’t done laundry. It’s absurd how a random scroll on X led me here, but isn’t that life? One minute you’re laughing at memes, the next you’re blasting White Lion, contemplating the human condition while your coffee stain sets in. And honestly? I’m not mad about it.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tatKFXlYiY
Click to expand...

I clicked on your video, listened to a bit, then when I put pause, this was one of the songs that showed up as a possible followup:
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SbUC-UaAxE&ab_channel=GunsNRosesVEVO


And yes, I've known the song for a long time and think it's quite good.
 
Damocles said:
The day started with a coffee spill on my favorite shirt, the one with the faded band logo that’s been through more breakups than I have. I laughed it off, but the stain looked like a Rorschach test of my life’s regrets. Work was a blur of emails and forced smiles, the kind you paste on when your boss asks how you’re doing, and you say “fine” but mean “I’m counting the seconds until I can leave.”

By evening, I was slumped on the couch, scrolling through old photos on my phone—me and friends I haven’t called in years, grinning like we’d never drift apart. The laughter in those pictures felt like a foreign language. I tried to shake it off, cracked a beer, and made a half-hearted joke to my cat about how he’s the only one who gets me. He blinked, unimpressed, and I swear he sighed.

Flipping through radio stations, I landed on something familiar—those opening guitar notes, soft and haunting, like a memory you can’t quite place. Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” started playing, and I didn’t change the station. The melody wrapped around me like an old blanket, warm but heavy with dust. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let the song carry me somewhere between longing and letting go, wondering who I was missing most—someone else, or just myself.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjpF8ukSrvk
Click to expand...
1st guitar song I ever learned.
The album went like this:

View: https://youtu.be/hjpF8ukSrvk
 
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