Name that tune

It's 4:15 in the afternoon, so the sun has nearly set and the relatively balmy afternoon that has hovered around 0○ Celsius with golden sunshine slanting off the melting snow suddenly plummets to a markedly cooler evening with the wet pavement whitening into ice.

Younger daughter has homework and thus has requested that we duck into our neighbourhood Second Cup for a consoling hot chocolate. All tables are in use, but a couple of armchairs are available. A dapper gentleman occupies the third, studying his laptop.

I get the warm drinks. As I carefully settle into the unaccustomed seat, I focus on the music playing in the background and search my daughter's face for signs of recognition.
"I don't know it, Mom,"
"You heard it last summer when we went to see Jersey Boys," I tell her.
"Oh, yea-ah!" She brightens. "Which song is this?"
"It's 'Sherry' by the Four Seasons, and the song before it was popular when I was your age."
She doesn't seem particularly keen to know, so we go back to sipping our drinks.

A lady standing by the pick-up counter is checking her cellphone and absently croons, "Sherry, won't you come out tonight?" I also detect a rather tuneless croak from the neighbouring armchair, but I may be imagining it.

Cradling my vanilla bean latte, I strain a little to hear the next song. Younger daughter excuses herself. Another tune begins, and I'm nodding my head to it, when the dapper gentleman smiles at me.
"I was about to ask you what this one is."
"It's the Traveling Wilburys. 'Last Night'.
"Really? You get a point, then."
"Yep. And the one before it was 'Wild Life' by the Talking Heads."
"Wow, you really know your music!"
"Well, certain eras. If you asked me about hip-hop…"
Or Lady Gaga, I think to myself. I could manage "Judas"...

The fella is packing up.
"I know this one," he says, rising and leaving.

It's "Eight Days a Week". Well, anyone would know that one.