Sultans of Swing: Great song or the Greatest song?

I love Dire Straits. I've had my share of favorite bands and there will surely be more, but until I discovered Dire Straits, or re-discovered since everyone's heard Money for Nothing, I'd never before heard a band whose music just seemed perfect. Effortless, balanced, harmonious. This is the kind of music that makes $120,000 speakers, $150,000 turntables and $50,000 interconnects seem like the highest of goals rather than a money-burning scheme. Like any band they have songs stronger than others, more memorable than the rest, but if a good band is one whose CD you can listen to from start to finish without feeling the need to skip anything, then a great band is one whose entire discography allows your fingers a long rest.

Sultans of Swing, certainly a classic and one of my favorites, is the best representative of the band's sound and impact. It's just there, a song that sits in the background when you have friends over, takes over a room when it comes over your speakers, or changes and amplifies any mood. I've listened to it while blowing off steam after work, while chilling out after long stimulus-enhanced poker nights, and during those times where I didn't really know what I was feeling, just that I didn't like it. It's impact changes depending on your own mood, but without losing any of it's own identity. If you're just peacefully relaxing, it brings you to a smokey London pub on a Thursday night, listening to a local band in the background while you take your time with one last pint. The kind of pub where the smoke is the only atmosphere, where the room barely affords the singer's sunglasses light to reflect, yet those glasses still draw the gazes of casual listeners while he plays only for himself. If you've had a bad day, feeling worn out and needing to hide from all the possibilities in the world, it's a rhythmic melancholy massage that comforts while reinforcing the sadness in your heart. Like being wrapped in a warm wet blanket, it soaks into you from all sides while you decide whether the softness is worth the inevitable chill to come.

It's not for everyone and that's fine. I like lots of music that others find any of boring, offensive, bland, simple, talentless, and just plain crap. I don't care if people call me a wigger for listening to Eminem, a punkass for listening to Guns'N Roses, or a snooty pseudo-artist for listening to the Dandy Warhols, those would be shots at the bands rather than shots at me. Yet I can't bring myself to be objective or dispassionate when people call Dire Straits boring, or untalented, or country. They just leave a kind of impact that bonds you to their music and when they're put down I always feel not like my taste has been questioned, but that the very nature of that taste was just attacked. So I don't handle it very well, like I didn't handle my 18 year-old assistant manager picking away at Bob Dylan lyrics at work the other day. I'll grant anyone that Dylan's harmonica playing is kind of irritating (it's not Dylan, it's frankly a shitty instrument better suited to use in Guantanamo Bay), his singing has debatable merit and his guitar playing is, at best, called "underrated." But his lyrics, of course, are incredible. You're talking about arguable the most important songwriter of the 20th century. What people fail to realize is that there are certain pillars of art that are not interested in layman judgments. They are simply on a higher plane, with a parallel purpose whose destination will not be deterred by flippant Philistines. Such is my connection with Dire Straits. I don't care if you like them or not, but you're best served recognizing their greatness or simply leaving the room, as there won't be any space left for interference.