mark holland #2 - Dead Disco
By: Mark Holland
Call me morbid, but I spend a great deal of my time deciding which song I might like to be played at my funeral. Sitting on trains, or waiting for the nice lady at the bakery to warm up my pasty, I find myself wondering about this to the extent that I feel I can now compile quite a comprehensive guide to many of the factors which must be taken into consideration. The pursuit is quite a narcissistic one, but I suppose most things are these days. In fact, I plan to script my entire funeral service myself; my loved ones will be forced to read out pre-fabricated anecdotes such as the one where I wrestle a child from the jaws of an enraged horse, and the one where I wrestle a child (and win). Then would come the music.
First and foremost, I wouldn't be comfortable choosing a song about heroin or wife-beating, which I suppose rules out a good 50% of my music collection. Such fear of misinterpretation is also why I feel it necessary to discard any Beirut song - I would not like my congregation of ex-loved ones to suddenly get the impression that I was primarily a fan of Bulgarian folk music or French chanson, I would consider this betrayal of my "roots". Unfortunately, this also prohibits the selection of the Italian national anthem, despite it being a banging tune.
Fundamentally, I think the decision most people make in these circumstances is between happy, pretty songs which brighten the occasion somewhat, and ones which brazenly attempt to make everyone cry. In terms of the latter, the majority of my peers would claim that something along the lines of 'Hallelujah' by Jeff Buckley would get the job done, to which I like to reply "pah". You want a depressing song? Try Lou Reed's 'The Kids'; the entire second half is just screaming, crying children - seemingly ideal. However, the problem with this one is the lack of subtlety. Any discerning mourner would quickly realise that the song is about a mother losing her children to social services, which is entirely irrelevant (touch wood, they'll never catch me) and they may decide that you are a terrible person. In fact, I have come to the conclusion that very sad songs are generally a bad idea.
Another factor to be taken into account, I feel, is the age of the song. While toying with the idea of making everyone sit through 'Sister Ray', I realised that my funeral might not be for a good while yet, and that the Velvet Underground will be nearing a hundred years old if I play my cards right. This is too old, and might not be considered "cool" by the hordes of spacesuit-wearing toddlers (nor might rock music in general, they may have reverted to sea-shanties). It also occurred to me, on the other hand, that I don't plan to fulfil my father's wishes of playing a Stone Roses song at his funeral as he was over 30 when they arrived, and that he will have a David Bowie song and be done with it. It would seem, therefore, that I must have a song by a current, or at least recent, band. This is a scary prospect.
For a while, I was convinced that 'You Only Live Once' by The Strokes was perfect. It has a good intro, a tune that onlookers could whistle as my coffin is lowered into the ground, and lyrics which are surprisingly fitting. However, I find that a song with such striking relevance wouldn't distance me too far from those Neanderthals who say they're having 'Another One Bites the Dust', or 'Ding Dong The Witch is Dead', or whatever. I do not want my funeral to resemble a scene from The Sound of Music, despite my family consisting mainly of German midgets. In other words, a balance has to be struck between total irrelevancy and tacky narrative.
Sigur Rós might be the safest bet; it's universal, beautiful, sounds semi-religious and lyrics are unintelligible. You would have to pray, though, that whoever conducts the service doesn't sound like David Attenborough otherwise you would be getting into very strange territory, particularly if your surname is Fox.
A tempting option would be to choose an obscure Radiohead B-side which would have to be downloaded illegally by your next of kin, in an attempt to have them imprisoned. This will teach them for not listening.
An equally tempting option for the daredevils amongst you is to request that your iPod be plugged into the PA system (if that's what they're called in such circumstances) and put on shuffle. This, though, is dangerous for numerous reasons. Firstly, there is always the chance that one of your novelty songs will come on and everyone will have to pretend to look sad while listening to the theme from Shaft. Secondly, a song about heroin or wife-beating might come on. Thirdly (and this is perhaps the most likely outcome), the song will inevitably be one that you would skip given the opportunity because you're just not in the mood for it. Personally, I hate around 90% of the songs on my iPod at any given time, depending on external circumstances. For example, I often struggle to listen to Tom Waits while eating a croissant.
The only conclusion I can come to on this issue, therefore, is that I am going to have to have a drink, stumble into a recording studio, sing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' (accompanying myself on glockenspiel and euphonium), and swear it will be played as I'm wheeled into the afterlife and that I'll never change my mind. I would recommend that you do the same.