The Last Waltz (Mido's Theme)

K-Hot knows how much I love ABBA's 'Dancing Queen.' I love it without an ounce of irony. It is a great song.

Idealjetsam knows how much I love 'Fake Plastic Trees' by Radiohead. Seriously, just sing "A green plastic watering can.." at any pitch and I melt like butter.

TMH knows how much I love 'I'm Shipping Out to Boston' by the Dropkick Murphys. So does Martin Scorsese.

Denz knows how much I love Pete and CL's 'T.R.O.Y.' He also knows the angst I feel as a late-twenties Caucasian b-boy drowning in a sea of nostalgia for true hip-hop.

My mom knows how much I loved Raffi, and I hope she knows how much I still do. Raffi, like meat, Paul Pierce, and Stanley Kubrick filming the lunar landing on a Hollywood soundstage, is the truth. Raffi, bless his still-beating heart, gave me just as much imagination as a child as Walt Disney did. No mean feat. Props.

The 18th Letter knows how much I love her and how much I always will. Nothing can compare, can even come close. Word to Sinead.

That said, the most beautiful piece of music ever recorded -- and, yes, I'm including the time I sang 'The Lollipop Guild,' as a kindergartener, in my school's production of The Wizard of OZ -- is 'The Last Waltz (Mido's Theme),' composed by Yeong-Wook Jo, featured in the Korean film Oldboy.

Now, whenever I tell people that The Last Waltz is unequivocally my favorite song of all time, I get a) a look of incredulousness, because, hey, the film from whence it came isn't exactly the feel good movie of the summer, you sickco, or b) a look of bewilderment, because, hey, the song of which you speak isn't exactly familiar to my Occidental ears.

Fine. To address the first point, Oldboy is a modern classic. You find it violent, shocking, a bit creepy or perverted? No prob. But let the composition stand on its own. I certainly don't defenestrate myself, believing I can fly, whenever I hear John Williams's Superman score. Take the music as it is. And, to be fucking sure, it is a sublime piece of music. I know I use that adjective too much, but, in The Last Waltz's case, it fits like epileptics.

To address the second, YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO IT. I WON'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER. I WON'T EVEN TAKE AN "I'LL TRY TO CHECK IT OUT IF I GET A CHANCE." Listen, you absorb the profound beauty that is The Last Waltz or I will personally visit your home like Jay and Silent Bob -- and what a shitty movie that was -- and deliver a beatdown. I've been working out; I can do it!

In short, I love The Last Waltz like I love my dick size.

You should too. And like the T-1000, I won't stop until you do*.

"Hi, I'm looking for John Connor..."




* Ideally, you would love both equally.