Music television – once back then, to take with you

Abba sounds from the speakers. »Yes, those were golden times. 1980, Abba with ‘The winner takes it all’. My life motto then and now! The 80s started with this song. Logically, it was 1980. You young vegetables can’t do anything with that, can you? Far away and totally uncool, pah.«

The Pizzeria Taly in Wedding, an inhospitable place compared to classic pizzerias. No fountain, no baskets of wine, no loving decoration, no music by Adriano Celentano or Eros Ramazotti. Instead, a plain counter, a few stylish seats for people who decide to eat here against all odds, and an oversized screen on the wall that shows music videos 16 hours a day. It has become a bad habit to hang screens on the wall in restaurants so that people stop talking and stare at the TV.

“You can’t do anything with that, can you?” The man asking the question looks pathetic. He was only able to open the door to the restaurant after several attempts, and the path to the counter was lined with obstacles. He fell on the table on the left and touched the cupboard with the plates on the right.

“Do you want your meal to go or eat here?” asks the young woman behind the counter. The man doesn’t answer but continues to look at the screen. “Back then there weren’t any clowns like that one.” A rapper can now be seen on the screen. »They were real stars. 1984 approximately. Musicians who mastered their craft. Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Wham, Alphaville or Talk Talk. Later Billy Idol, Pet Shop Boys or The Bangles. When Billy Idol had spit running out of his mouth and he wiped it with the back of his hand, that was pure punk rock. Then Cyndi Lauper, Milli Vanilli, Fine Young Cannibals. But the names don’t mean anything to you, and all these rappers mean nothing to me. At night I watch videos on the Internet, the complete charts from 1980 to 1989. It’s always a great pleasure. I would never think of listening to this stuff. Everything that came after. Just mindless nonsense, just playback, just people with no personality. What’s with this babble? And this back and forth gesture. What’s that supposed to mean? Does he want to show me the way or what?”

“Would you like some spice on your pizza?” the young woman asks after briefly looking into the oven.

“But you’re into that sort of thing, aren’t you? That’s what gangsta rappers do to steal your body. They can’t dance. It’s not MTV either. There are probably 20 such music clip stations these days. But they all have no moderators and no more focal points. They play everything up and down, most of it nonsense and every now and then a gem from the 80s. Then you and your idiotic peers wake up and think to yourself: How cool, what crazy thing is this? But then the next gangsta rapper or Lady Gaga comes along. The name alone, gaga, that says it all. Gaga in my head, that’s all I’m saying. She can’t keep up with Madonna, the early Madonna. But from 1990 onwards, Madonna just did shit. The 80s were certainly such an esoteric thing, such a miracle decade where the stars were aligned. Maybe something Chinese. The Decade of the Dragon, the 80s. After that came the decade of the rat, then that of fleas, then that of… oh, what do I know. But the early Madonna was great. I still remember buying the single “Like a Virgin” in 1983 in the Karstadt on Leopoldplatz. I queued specifically to be one of the first. I can still remember it well. That was on July 13, 1983.”

»Your pizza is ready. That’s six euros fifty.”

»Here you have ten euros. From the rest you can ‘download’ some good music from the 80s, which is rarely done today. You don’t even have any idea what a record, a CD or a cassette feels like. Lost generation is all I can say. You’ll probably use the tip to get the latest gangsta rapper shit. But I’m not giving up, maybe there’s still something that can be saved for you. See you in the morning!”

The young woman stands alone behind the counter. The man fell into the bushes outside with his pizza. Now he gets up again, disorientated, staggers back and forth for a moment and then staggers on his way. Friendliness is the top priority, says the boss. Customers should feel comfortable. The young woman tells herself that over and over again, every day and especially with this guest who comes every evening and keeps saying the same thing.

But when the man is gone, she feels compelled to give him an answer. If he were present, he would not return the next day, humiliated by her knowledge. She was busy listening to his talk. She listened to the music, found some things good and, somewhat by chance, discovered one thing. But she can’t alienate this customer, the store isn’t doing well. “’Like a Virgin’ was released in November 1984, you complete idiot,” she shouts, throwing the dishcloth towards the door.