For some reason, I’ve always remembered the time I walked through that back door at The Rivoli, into the stage space, and this proto-riotgrrrrl was complaining to the “DJ” (a rather lofty name for whoever he was) because “Under My Thumb” was playing on the house sound system.
That was around 1988.
Fast “forward”:
Why should I have to hear about a guy comparing his girlfriend to a dog while I’m buying vegetables?
