Same old story when it comes to vacation.

I'm down in Hilton Head Island, S.C., where I like to spend a lot of the time checking out the music scene. Plenty of VERY talented guys play guitar outside and inside the multitude of restaurants and bars around here.

I joke that all they had to do to land their gigs was to learn Jimmy Buffett's repertoire. But that's no joke. They apparently are obligated to play what the people want, and when you get tourists together around some sand and booze, all they seem to want is Jimmy B.

Last night, I was listening to a fellow (ironically, also named Jim) play a set that included some great one-man blues pickin' on his Taylor. As I applauded enthusiastically, he said he had time for one more song. And, of course, everyone except me yelled: "Margaritaville!"

So Jim played Jimmy's biggest hit for the millionth time, conveniently merging the second and third verses so he could get it over with ASAP. No one probably noticed the short version but me.

During Jim's break, I asked him about his obligation to play such material, and he just kind of smiled. That's part of being a performer, catering to the audience. But he did sneak in a few obscurities (including a cool Jesse Colin Young song), so I guess that kind of makes up for all the Jimmy Buffett.