Musical Matrimony: The Wedding Reception Soundtrack
September 1, 2003
by Craig Curtice

No two weddings are ever exactly the same. Because of the wide variety of couples that marry and the even wider cross-section of guests who attend (like long-lost family members, emotionally scarred friends, and even complete strangers) weddings can be immensely stressful even though it’s supposed to be one of the greatest days of your life. Nowadays when planning the perfect wedding the most critical decisions aren’t about the ceremony itself, but rather what music to play at the reception. And let’s be honest, since it’s hardly a secret that women blueprint most weddings, songs like “Going To The Chapel,” “Wonderful Tonight,” “I Will Always Love You,” “Wishin’ and Hopin’,” “It Had To Be You,” and “Endless Love,” are just a few of the sappy chick favorites that re-surface all the time. “It’ll be just magical,” she beamed. Groan.

There are millions of songs to choose from and a guy’s got to represent for his buddies. If the guys from beer commercials had their way, you’d probably hear classic love songs by KISS like “I Stole Your Love,” “Do You Love Me,” C’mon And Love Me,” and “I Was Made For Loving You.” Now before things get out of hand here – Bachelor Party style, there’s always one dude who has some Styx in the truck, but for God’s sake, don’t let him play it – especially “Lady.” In fact leave the Frampton, Journey, Loverboy, Foreigner, and Night Ranger at home too; this isn’t a keg party. But seriously, I might suggest some tasteful songs by Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Henry Mancini, George Benson, or Neil Diamond, at least until the elders leave, then knock yourselves out with the most popular wedding song ever, Kool & The Gang’s “Celebration,” followed by anything by James Brown.

You see, recently while attending this country club reception (only my third of seven scheduled weddings this young season, which typically runs from June until November) I was pondering all these song decisions while standing in a stalled line to the open bar. That’s when it also occurred to me that you never hear Sheena Easton’s “Sugar Walls” at wedding receptions any more either. Anyway, when I finally reached the outdoor mini bar on wheels, “Dave” the bartender acknowledges my request for a Bacardi & Coke, and instead pours a Bacardi & Pepsi. “No Coke, Pepsi.” Secretly horrified, only Bill Murray’s SNL Greek restaurant character would’ve jerked his head approvingly. There is no substitute for Coke to mix with Jack Daniels or rum, and no one has ever asked for a Jack & Pepsi on purpose. It’d be like requesting a wedding band to actually play “Sugar Walls.”

“Where I come from there’s a place called heaven,
That’s the place where all good children go,
The houses are of silver, the streets are gold,
But there’s more where you come from—
My sugar walls”

I then waded through a sea of strangers swishing ice around in my rum concoction (which tasted just wrong) finding some friends on a large deck overlooking the golf course. There was a band playing nearby that had a girl in her late-20’s on keyboards, a slighter older, CSI-looking guy singing and playing acoustic guitar, and a slightly younger dude on drums. The band was pretty much ignored as guests talked over one another, but a few people would clap at the end of each song. I remember hearing swell charmers “Closer I Am To Fine,” “Always,” “Brown Eyed Girl,” “When I’m 64,” and of course, that freaking song from Dirty Dancing. You know, the one that starts, “I’ve…had… the time of my life…” Eeech.

“The blood races to your private spots
That lets me know there’s a fire
You can’t fight passion when passion is hot
Temperatures rise inside my sugar walls”

Surprisingly, the band sounded quite nice, simply enhancing the mood and careful not to steal any thunder from the bride, or should I say “Queen for a Day.” Oh sure, it’s the groom’s big day too, but his real responsibility is to show up on time, smile graciously, shake hands, and don’t do anything to embarrass the bride. Women spend thousands of dollars on a dress they’ll wear once, and guys will rent a tux for $99.95 ($59.95 if the whole wedding party buys the package). Enough said. I think I also remember the band playing cuties by Billy Joel, the Beatles, James Taylor, Elton John, and Paul Simon. “Aw, I love this song!” she gushed. “Aw gees,” he cringed. After dinner the band was unceremoniously whisked away and a DJ took over the proceedings.

“Lemme take you somewhere you’ve never been
I could show you things you’ve never seen
I could make you never want to fall in love again
Come spend the night inside my sugar walls”

This particular evening would unravel like many booze-fueled receptions – the dance floor was filled with spastic limbs writhing uncontrollably. “Uncle Earl” performed Karate Kid wax-on, wax-off hand movements, some lady in an obnoxious purple dress looked like there were bees in her hair, and then there was “Spinning Man,” who simply turned in dizzying circles. The older folks apparently learned to dance either by watching the Peanuts Christmas Special or Elaine on Seinfeld re-runs. Two guys with video cameras mounted on poles got the whole thing on tape, and as such, none of these folks should consider running for Governor of California. That’s why insipid dance traditions like the Chicken Dance, the Electric Slide, the Bunny Hop, Polkas, and mindless, snaking conga lines exist – for the rhythmically challenged to try dancing.

“Take advantage, it’s alright
I feel so alive when I’m with you!
Come and feel my presence…it’s reigning tonight
Heaven on earth inside my sugar walls”

Married happily for almost a decade now myself, I doubt anyone could recall even one song played at our reception, but I’ll always remember dancing to Sting’s version of Hendrix’s “Little Wing” because it was the only time I was even near the dance floor. There were plenty of cameras and video recorders around to remind me for the rest of my life that I can’t dance and that faking it just makes it worse.

“I can tell you want me, it’s impossible to hide
Your body’s on fire. Admit it! Come inside.”

So like drunken celebrity judges, I sat with friends on a balcony pointing out dance floor violators late into the night. Funny, I can’t really even remember what the DJ played, but I know I didn’t hear any 50 Cent or “Sugar Walls.” Nevertheless, the evening’s most precious moment came during “Baby Got Back,” when one nameless guest made a miraculous recovery after passing out in the back seat of a rental car. His dancing looked like a tranquilized ape trying to climb a building, so we now affectionately call him Donkey Kong. Aw, now wasn’t that sweet.

(Craig Curtice is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine)