At one time or other we’ve all been there - we find ourselves humming, mouthing, tapping our foot to the smooth rhythms of a song that is stuck in our head and won’t get out. Usually it’s the last possible song you’d want bouncing around for hours on end, but sometimes it’s just what you need to put a little extra pep in your step and make it to the end of a shaky patch in your day. Roughly between 1997 and 2004 (that’s seven years, kids) I had Roxanne by The Police in my head at some point every…single…day. Roxanne is a song that most everyone who knows it loves, ‘cos it’s a staple of classic rock n roll, ridiculously catchy and about a prostitute, so win-win-STD. Those who don’t like it actually hate it (along with cherry pie, smiles on babies and the Easter Bunny), which is their loss and mistake. And as much as I do really love that song, it really became a problem making an appearance every day, especially as we broke into the new century. Somewhere around that time I let my little problem slip to some coworkers and they were all too happy to oblige me into putting on the red light well into my thirties. I mean I did everything I could to get rid of the demon, from listening to Outlandos D’Amour over and over again, to playing Roxanne on the guitar, to trying to pass it on like a hot potato to friends and loved ones. But it was no use. I was always singing it, humming it, dancing along to it as I went about my day. I sang it in the car, in the shower, in the line at Wendy’s, during the “king of the world” bit in Titanic and at my cousin Kevin’s wedding. I changed the style from standard classic to bebop to opera to ballad to punk and had a pretty good time with it, but never achieved my goal. And then one day it was gone. It took me several days to realize it had been several days since I’d sold my body to the night, but the curse was finally lifted. Now I can listen to Roxanne and not worry about that tart being stuck there for days/weeks/months on end, but she's always welcome for a few hours.