May 19, 2007

Chips ahoy

Pringles is currently running a promotion that has something to do with American Idol (apparently there's a contest to win tickets to the final episode of the season). Anyway, they've done this by associating different flavors of Pringles with different genres of music:


Original Pringles = rock. Okay. I think we can broadly say that if one had to pick a default genre of popular music, rock would fit the bill reasonably well.

Sour Cream and Onion = pop. This connection is less obvious. Maybe because onions make you cry, and pop music nowadays is all overdramatic and weepy (at least in the melisma-heavy American Idol version)?

Note that the rock Pringles weigh more than the pop Pringles, perhaps in a nod to the fact that rock is "heavier" than pop. Also, you can rock out without opening your mouth, based on my admittedly unscientific analysis of the Pringles dudes at the top of the cans.


Barbecue = country. Pretty safe choice there.

Cheddar Cheese = R&B. Again, strange. What are they trying to say about R&B? "You're sharp, but cheesy." If I were R&B, I'd feel a little insulted.

Country and R&B don't even require a mouth, apparently. The country-singing Pringles guy looks kind of smug, so I assume he's performing some number from the Toby Keith-style yay-for-Republican-America wing of country music. R&B Pringles man is winking at us, in a futile attempt to inject a little flirtiness into his sexless mien.

Anyway, I thought, why don't the other Pringles flavors have their own genres of music? So I decided to remedy this.

Loaded Baked Potato: Loaded? Baked? What else but jam bands?
JalapeƱo: This one is kind of a softball. Salsa.
Chili Cheese: Tricky. I'm going to go with the lame pun and say that chili = chill-out music, so: trip-hop.
Pizza: You're in college and don't have the money for anything besides fast food. Totally emo.
Ranch: Oh, they already used country. Bluegrass, then.
Salt and Vinegar: Umm...sea chanteys!
Bacon Ranch: Damn you, Pringles, with your mysterious love for ranch dressing. I got nothin'. By association with Rodgers and Hammerstein's Oklahoma!, I'm going to say Broadway show tunes.
Spicy Guacamole: Hmm. Already used salsa. What the hell: reggaeton.

But what about flavors from the U.K.?

Paprika: Bollywood musicals, naturally.
Cheese and Onions: Beatles parody bands.
Cheesy Cheese: Smooth jazz.
Light Red Pepper With a Touch of Olive Extract: Tasteful classical guitar music for playing in restaurants.
Light Greek Style Cheese with a touch of Avocado Oil: Bouzouki.
Sea Salt and Black Pepper: Earnest protest songs played to a room full of people who agree with the musician.
Tiger Prawn and Crushed Garlic: Gamelan.
Flame-Grilled Steak and Caramelised Onion: Stag movie soundtracks.
Smoked Bacon: I guess something needs to be hip-hop, right? Smoked bacon, as the least inappropriate choice thus far, you get to be hip-hop.
Thai Sweet Chilli and Lemongrass: Paul Simon appropriating some ethnic music or other.

Posted by Francis at 01:43 AM

Bacon ranch? Klezmer bluegrass!

Posted by: Wait, Jews don't eat bacon, do they? Never mind then. at May 19, 2007 02:49 AM

If Smoked Bacon were liturgical music (smoke=incense?) then Bacon Ranch could be country gospel.

Posted by: Richard at May 19, 2007 11:23 AM

How about celtic punk for salt 'n vinegar. Flogging Molly? The Pogues? :)


Posted by: Kathryn at May 19, 2007 09:02 PM

hahaha, now i want some pringles... i had no idea the uk had different kinds. those sound yummy...

Posted by: Tracy at May 20, 2007 12:46 AM

The UK flavors sound awesome. I'm annoyed that I can't get those here. I mean, I can get most of those in Route 11 or other "indie" potato chips, but that's not the same as the perfection of a Pringle.

Greek cheese and avocado ... I'm dying.

I may write a strongly worded letter.

Posted by: kostia at May 20, 2007 10:42 PM
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