I don't really do resolutions, but I do make a deal, of sorts, with the devil.

The devil in the detail of a song.

I have a little ritual on New Year's Day. Upon waking, I brace myself, and either turn on the radio or take a random hit from a playlist on my phone. Whatever the first song is, that's my vibe for the year.

Lock it in, Debbie.

Actually, it's more than a vibe. It's an oracle.

It's also a gamble.

You could be thrilled with your draw, or be scrambling to find a glimmer of insight from a godawful song that will inevitably force you to consider getting "Loser" tattooed on your forehead, or my favourite typo ink: "No Regerts".

After the uncertainty of the past year, I maybe should have ditched the ritual.

But, like a skeleton competitor in the Winter Olympics (I had no idea this sport existed), I barrelled head-first into it.

But I did wear a helmet this year. I closed my eyes and plucked a song from my gigantic list of "driving songs" on Spotify.

I figured that, at least, the song would be something I liked.

That said, there's a lot of light and shade in this playlist, from dark bangers from hell to sickly sweet pop.

My investment strategy was medium-risk, unlike high-risk Morrison, who grabbed his axe from the cupboard and unleashed a dad-rock tune on the nation.

It might have been funny or endearing if the Morrisons had kept it in-family.

But, apparently, Australia is one big family and we were invited to mum and dad's for a barbie, some passive-aggressive chitty-chat and questionable entertainment.

While watching the 60 Minutes car crash, I was suddenly reminded of my 2022 song.

Probably because I was going into shock, I engaged my coping mechanism: escaping to the absurd.

I was saved by the thought: "The only thing that could save this is more cowbell".

Yes, my 2022 song is Blue Oyster Cult's (Don't Fear) The Reaper.

If I was a serious young insect, I would have heard the musical oracle instructing me to dwell on the tune's deeper theme of the inevitability of death.

But my reference point was the More Cowbell sketch from Saturday Night Live (SNL) featuring Christopher Walken (as producer Bruce Dickinson) and Will Ferrell (cowbell maestro Gene).

The sketch will either ruin your love for the track or make you appreciate it even more. It also elevates this percussion instrument to star status.

So, thanks to The Morrisons' loud and proud rendition of April Sun in Cuba, my mystical music oracle's words came floating back ". . . more cowbell . . . more cowbell".

What does it all mean?

In short, I'm going to be more annoying.

But, as Gene tells his long-suffering bandmates, who think he should tone down the 'bell in the SNL skit, "I'd be doing myself a disservice, and every member of this band, if I didn't perform the HELL out of this."

My motto for 2022: More cowbell.

It drowns out the ukulele.

deborah.richards@newcastleherald.com.au

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