“Four,” he said.
“Huh?” She was looking out the window of the taxi.
“It’s a four,” he said again.
“What’s a four?”
“The song on the radio. It’s a four.”
“What are you taking about?”
“There’s only four songs,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” She squared around in the back seat of the taxi to face him.
“There are only four songs.”
“Oh no. Is this another one of your theories?”
“There are only four songs.”
“I have got to hear this.”
“It is true. I have been researching it for weeks now.”
“And based on your exhaustive research, you have concluded that there are only four.”
“That is correct. Four songs. It is a scientific fact.”
“Well. What are they?”
“Are you going to hear me out or are you going to do your annoying interrupting thing.”
“Oh I am all ears. What’s the first one.”
“The first is ‘My-Baby-Is Gone-And-Now-I’ve-Got-The-Blues-Bad.”
“That’s the first category?”
“Yes it is, And I imagine that even you will be able to think of a few examples.”
“Oh no Bud. This is your construct. You give the examples.”
“Leader of the Pack.”
“That’s a real chart topper.”
“Yesterday.”
“Come on.”
“There are a million of them. Trust me.”
“What’s next?”
“I-Found-My-Baby-And-Now-I’m-Feeling-Fine.” This is probably the biggest category.”
“What’s with the “baby” business?” She asked.
“Don’t know.’
“I never have gotten the baby part.”
“I am with you there.”
“Like who wants to be loving a baby, I mean like that.” She said.
“Examples would include Your Body is a Wonderland and Feeling Alright and Crash into Me and Layla.”
“I’ll give you those; what else you got?”
“I’ve-Lost-My-Blank-And-Now-I-Am-Feeling-Blue.”
“My Blank?”
“Blank. Like you know, it could be anything. Fill in the blank. A car or a surfboard or race.”
“But not a baby?”
“That’d be a Number 1. In a Number 3 sometimes you lose your baby when you lose your blank. But if all you are losing is your baby, it’s a number 1. It can be tricky; you’ve gotta be careful to make sure you don’t put a song in the wrong place…. Like I will tell you I got all mixed up on Hard-Headed Woman. I mean is that a one or a three?”
“Wow. I’ll bet that was hard.”
“A true Number 3 is like Imagine. You know, John Lennon.”
“You actually have been thinking about this, haven’t you? I thought – seriously, I hoped – that this was a spur of the minute fantasy island adventure of yours.”
“Oh, its well worth the effort.”
“What’s number 4?”
“You want to guess?”
“Thanks. I’ll let you finish the thought.”
“If-I-Only-Had-A-Blank-I’d-Be-Feeling-Fine-And-Probably-Getting-A-Baby-Too.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yup.”
“That’s the famous four?”
“Yup”
“Every song fits in one or the other?”
“Yup.”
“It’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It’s ridiculous. There are a million songs that don’t fit into those categories.”
“Like what?”
“Like…like…like Dock of Bay”
“Number One”
“It is not.”
“Oh yes. Why do you think he is sitting on the damn dock? Cause he has lost this baby.”
“Satisfaction.”
“Same. He can’t get none cause he has no baby.”
“The Thrill is Gone”
“Oh please. Come on. Same. Give me a hard one.”
“Blowing in the Wind.”
“Four.”
“Huh? Four? How is that a four?”
“If I only had some peace I’d be feeling fine.”
“Oh God… Eve of Destruction.”
“Three. Where are you coming up with these? Don’t you know anything recorded after the 60’s?”
“Oh I got one,” she said. “How about The End of the World As We Know It? Ha!”
“It’s a three.”
“How’s it a three?”
“Do you even remember what’s a three?”
“Its something stupid about losing a Blank.”
“You should pay attention to the technical terms. It’s called : I-Lost-My-Blank-And-Now-I-Am-Feeling-Blue.”
“So how is The End of the World a three?”
“Are you purposefully oblique or do you actually not see it? The World is the Blank. Of course.”
“Argh. At least now I see how you have deluded yourself into believing four categories cover every song. You’ll just cram any song into a category.”
“You’re just jealous cause you didn’t think of it yourself.”
“Yes. That’s it. I am jealous. Deeply jealous.”
“It’s true.”
“Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands”
“One.”
“Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
“Two.”
“Money Ain’t the Thing”
“Three.”
“Its not a three.”
“It’s a three. Trust me.”
“I feel so bad for you, having to carry around that head of yours all the time,” she said.
“But you know there is one consolation.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s only four songs to remember.”