Phoenix Fights

Fighting the FEAR, depression and BDP on a daily basis AND making my own bread. Bring it on 2016….

EAR WORM No. 21 – The Ting Tings – THAT’S NOT MY NAME


This song is stuck in my ear ‘oles for a variety of reasons, the primary instigator being that it is currently being used by Coke in their personalised bottles ad campaign.

Quick synopsis:

Disgruntled dog searches in vain for a bottle of coke with his name on, passing lots of lucky folk drinking their bespoke black stuff, culminating with him going up on the roof of a building which has a hoarding with, yes, a huge bottle with his name on it, and he does a triumphant doggy dance with the other mutts there.



The next reason is that the song is about being invisible, which I am and always have been, only nowadays it’s from choice, but i relate to the singers underlying frustration a lot, especially when remembering how it was when I was younger.

The third?  Anonymity.  Not only is Sista Sertraline not my name, but I’m a bit of a fan of alias/pseudonym in real life too, especially when it comes (well, came) to dating, suspect spammers and hiding from potential ‘friends’.  In fact even my Facebook pages paints a picture that just isn’t true, but that’s what I’ve done my entire life, and who in my position would be frank about what is really going on for them on social media?

Plus if I don’t know who I am, how can anyone else really?

The fourth link is that I was once told I looked like the lead singer, and whilst that was overly flattering given that I’m probably double her age, she does look like she could be my daughter, and when the song first came out, I’d find myself watching this video with a fascination bordering on the obsessional as it was kind of a glimpse into a world where I might have reproduced and she was the child that never was, which was both compelling and bitter sweet.

Final factor is that it’s a great song, so enjoy!

Jeez, I really should get out more….

Namaste x



11 thoughts on “EAR WORM No. 21 – The Ting Tings – THAT’S NOT MY NAME

  1. I can totally dig this song. The repetitive “that’s not my name” is catchy, for sure.

  2. Great song. Thank you for turning me on to it. Your comment “Plus if I don’t know who I am, how can anyone else really?” resonates with me all to well.

  3. It got into my head too, a few months back, when my local supermarket kept playing it over their company radio. I thought I’d go bonkers there for a while. In fact, it was one of the reasons I started doing my shopping online and having it delivered. Well, that and the fact the the bloody place keeps on taking things I buy regularly off their stock-list …

  4. I don’t even relate to the name I’ve got. Tricky.

  5. Now, Madame, I have every confidence that you are not and never have been invisible. Not that I would dare question your having felt this, but, you have such substance and depth and presence (even epistolarily, no mean feat, that), I suspect you are one with a terribly askew sense of the impression that you make. (I have long been told that I am in this category as well, though, in my case, it is not skewing, it is accuracy. 😉 )

    A taste for clandestine identity? Kismet, Madame—all I can say is, KISMET. Once again, we are sympatico. Personally, it’s a matter of a seventh-rate Salingerian bent for privacy and a jejune libertarianism—people with no need to know my name (or anything about me) have no business knowing it. Hell, on Facebook, I have a fictious name, picture of someone else and the only thing posted on my page are results from the dopey quizzes for which I have always had a weakness. Moving from low-rent Salingerism to bargain-basement Pynchoniana, I even refuse to have an e-mail account in my own name. Of course, this minor compulsion is only fueled by the chronically encroaching presumed familiarity of the “global village”. (Do excuse that term. My hand to G-d, it is not a resident of my etymological storehouse.)

    Holy cats—will you look at that grotesque display of self-indulgent keyboard nattering?! (Yet, AGAIN.)

    Right, real quick—reading along the post, I was all set to impress [sic] with my near-autistic capacity for pointless minutiae by noting last year’s post that mentioned your resemblence to Katie White, until beaten to it by your “fourth link”. Were I not as fond of you as I am, Madame, I’d be madder than a three-balled cat. 😉

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