Aliens, apparently have poor musical capabilities despite all their technological advancements. On October 13th, 1977,8:29pm EST (Year Zero to the Refined League), the exact moment the closing credit music to “Welcome Back Kotter” was heard by aliens, resulting in an unprecedented number of ecstasy related alien deaths, and the immediate addiction to all music from Earth. Yeah. Our music is THAT good.
“We’ve actually picked up thousands of alien anthems, slow dances, and ballads. But the music’s so awful that it’s always mistaken for the death rattle of a distant star. It’s seriously that bad.”
Fast forward to present day….a copyright lawyer sitting at his desk when a mullah, and a very sexy nun walk into your office, asking for a license to all of the music humanity has to offer for intergalactic use. Sounds like the lead in to a terrible joke, right? Not for Nick Carter.
Why is this on our bookshelf?
Ignoring the obvious comparison to Douglas Adams‘ writing style (which to be honest was reason enough for me to pick this book up in the first place) Rob Reid, founder of Rhapsody music service, lends a unique perspective to the whole trouble surrounding music copyrights.
When you have that kind of weight attached to your name, and you’re writing about your field in a way that everyone can relate to, it’s a special sort of awesome.
Rating (4 stars)
I loved how this book hits every pop-culture note, from Rickrolling, to Phlutter (a Foursquare clone), music references, geek culture references, and the above mentioned nod to Douglas Adams, without trying too hard.
It was by no means a terribly complicated plot, but the clever writing made up for some of the simplicity of the story, and some of the hurried pace I felt it had.
Read this book:
For the sheer pleasure of seeing how many music references can be crammed into a novel. Turns out it’s a lot.
Don't Read this book:
If you hate earworms and have a hard time getting rid of them…. or, if you’re like me, have the tendency to sing out loud when you read lyrics or song titles. Thankfully, I didn’t read this in public.
Once you're done, do this:
Be mistrustful of talking parrots, your vacuum, red headed mullahs who are seen with sexy nuns. No good can come of that combo.
