So I'm driving into work the other day, and "Smells Like Teen Spirit" comes on the radio. And I noticed because it's not all that often you hear it broadcast. It's not new music, certainly, but I'm not certain it really fits in among the Classic Rock selections one regularly hears, so radio inclusion is rare. I thought about what statement was being made with the playing of this song that I have heard eleventy billion times. Then I thought about how it was played at my wedding reception. Then I thought about my wife. Then I tried to remember if I was making dinner for the kids that night and, if so, if I needed to stop at the store.

And I didn't hear any more of the song beyond those first few janks from Kurt's guitar. Oh, the song played and I didn't change the station, but I just didn't HEAR it, you know?

I should stipulate: I love "Smells Like Teen Spirit." It's a masterpiece. It pairs these deliriously catchy pop hooks with heaps of antisocial sarcasm (both in words and music) to create a song that is makes fun of popular music, punk rock, the listeners and the band, all while celebrating all those things. It has a guitar solo that is JUST THE MELODY OF THE VERSE. Beyond all that, it has the lyric "I found it hard, it was hard to find / Oh well, whatever, never mind," a lyric where the lyricist gives up on writing the lyric halfway through but just WRITES IT ANYWAY.

I could write a book on "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and I just might. I don't know how many volumes it would be.

But again: I did not hear it on the radio. And I think it's because of two factors: one, society has attached too much meaning to the song; and two, so have I. When it comes to music, "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is credited with exterminating the artifice of the MTV-driven 1980s, establishing the presence of a generation that was raised on pop pablum and then spat it up. For me, a Seattleite just a bit younger than Kurt and Krist, that whole album and that song in particular represents a brief flourishing of self-actualization — our whole weird Northwest messy worldview became acceptable — before a shotgun blast snuffed it back into the oblivion we kind of knew we were heading for. It's a heavy song. It's so heavy that I think the brain can't bear the weight and it simply doesn't process. It's like a repressed memory.

So I never hear it, even when I hear it, because there's too much of it to hear. Sometimes — maybe sometimes — I hear some of Dave Grohl's drum fills and remind myself and anyone around me that his drumming took that song from being a great song to a transcendently great song.

I've tried to think of other songs that could fill the role of songs you don't hear when you hear them:

"Hotel California" — Like the hotel from whence its name is derived, one is doomed to never escape from this dirge to Hollywood excess and the death of idealism and blah blah blah shut up Don Henley. It's been played, mocked, discussed, dismantled, and borne like a pack on a donkey's back for so long, both in society and in the lives of music listeners, that the brain checks out. I've participated in all those things, especially the mocking part. Also, the ear-brain corridor knows this is a long song, full of Felder and Walsh gazing at each other while endlessly noodling on their guitars, so perception just takes a break of six or eight or 44 minutes or however long this song is.

"Yesterday" — It's the "Jingle Bells" of Beatles songs, the first one everyone associates with the group. It's simple and unobtrusive, just Paul being adorably glum for 2:03 and then you're done. I don't think I had really paid attention to this song — really heard it — from about age 14 to last week when it was in a music documentary I saw. I bore down, concentrated, and really enjoyed it. I don't think I'll really hear it again for several more decades.

When you go down a path of compiling a list like this, it's ideal to have quite a few entries, maybe even count them down to build suspense. But I think I really just have those three. Other songs that other people might qualify as unhearable don't go there for me, such as:

"Satisfaction" — I'm always delighted about the notion that Mick can't find anyone to have sex with and delighted about the inclusion of shirt cleaning, so I end up paying attention.

"Freebird" — I don't hear this one but it's only because I turn it off right away so that doesn't count. Because, honestly, who has time? We're only on this world for a very short period.

"Won't Get Fooled Again" — I'm a sucker for Daltrey's yells, especially how the second YEEEEAAAAHHH is just a little longer and more guttural than the first. So I stick around.

"Don't Stop Believin'" — I've pondered Steve Perry's voice way more than I ever should have. Could it have worked in any genre other than Girlfriend Rock? What if he talks that way in real life? What are those vowels he's making, anyway?

So that's me. Your results may vary. Whatever your unhearables are, I hope you enjoy not hearing them.

John Moe has been heard on a number of American Public Media and Minnesota Public Radio programs, including as a contributor to Oake & Riley in the Morning, commenting on the latest Internet trends. Currently, John created and hosts the podcast The Hilarious World of Depression. He is also an author of a number of books, including The Deleted Emails of Hilary Clinton: A Parody and Dear Luke, We Need To Talk, Darth: And Other Pop Culture Correspondences.