Intel was years ahead of its time... (Happy New Year!)
Sorry for the graphic nature of this post. But it’s reality. And reality is graphic.
Enjoy the start of this new decade with a karaoke song about beer shits…
The beer shits (4x)
“You’ve gone too far this time”
But I’m sleeping on the hard cold tile
A puddle spilled out around me
Good chances it came from my inside
I’ll crawl cross the bathroom floor
There’s no way that I can stand oh oh
Last night I had a hard time deciding
To have one or two beers in my hands oh oh
CHORUS
Budwei-yi-yi-yi-yi-ser goes right through me
Miller Li-yi-yi-yi-ght cuts right through me
Coors Li-yi-yi-yi-yi-ght spills right through me
The beer shits is the morning after, keeping my rear parked
The beer shits is the discharged treasure that can be quite dark
And leaning over the bathtub isn’t that bizarre
Every little thing the beer shits does
Leaves behind another set of skid marks
I’m on the bowl and I want to get off
Butt won’t slow down the flush roundabout
I drank the whole bar watching TV sets
Don’t want to be around when this gets out
CHORUS
Oh the beer shits what a game I’m playing with my innards
The beer shits is the discharged treasure that can be quite dark
And leaning over the bathtub isn’t that bizarre
Every little thing the beer shits does
Leaves behind another set of skid marks
It’s an end-of-the-year-decade evaluation of the year decade that’s come before. Long story short – there was nothing new.
The only things left to hit the mainstream were the very things that were once thought taboo, which explains Jenna Jameson’s widespread fame (no pun intended), the common knowledge of cougars and MILF‘s, and the over-sexualization of the underaged (i.e. countdown-to-age-eighteen clocks for the Olson Twins, Hayden Panettiere, Miley Cyrus, etc).
"If you like it, then you know it's got a ring to it..."
Gone are the days of truly independent filmmaking. (And BTW, I didn’t ask for 3D films to be brought back.) Hip-hop and rap break down barriers no more. Television turned game shows into reality programming, but did little else except compartmentalize audiences between channels. Everything has become corporatized to the point of homogenization.
“So what have the Aughts wrought us?”
Outside of the birth of a new medium boom of the Internet (known as the ol’ TripleDoubleU’round hyeh), and the boon that was social networking (YouTube, Facebook, Friendster, et. al.), the web just offers another outlet for pre-existing formats.
So what rose from the ashes of the Y2K bug? One thing…
Although it technically was first heard in 1998, when Cher’s Believe* was torturing me via my alarm clock, while my face was smeared in a puddle of chunky pink Marguerita upchuck on my tiled bathroom floor (true story), it wasn’t until this decade that it took a foothold on almost everything on pop radio (list here).
My Prediction for the 10’s
Since Lady Gaga is the Cher of now, and IMHO she’s actually quite talented… and not to say Cher wasn’t talented… I guess what I’m saying is… keep an eye on her. She might set the next trend. Or not. Who do I look like, Phil Spector? (Don’t answer that.)
(SIDENOTE: I’m secretly rooting for Taylor Swift and her aw-shucksness to put the societal downward spiral on hold.)
*Another early auto-tuner was Kid Rock’s Only God Knows Why (1998). And it’s true – only God knows why Kid Rock hooked up with Pamela Anderson after finding out she had Hepatitis C. Perhaps he confused it with the vitamin…
When I first heard Miley Cyrus’ Party in the U.S.A. amidst her infamous stripper pole ice cream cart incident at the Teen Choice Awards (the TripleDoubleU was all a-Twitter), it did not make an impression in the least. In fact, had the song not gotten so much radio play, I would not have backtracked to find out that it was this song she writhed to.
Fast-forward to today. Damn, does that song get stuck in your head. It’s a classic earworm cocktail: lift a few themes from other songs, drop in a couple famous names, mention “partying” in a patriotic manner, and sprinkle with auto-tuning. Voila! A hit!
Before getting into the full monty with this song, I’d like to present a testimony to the ditty’s power over lyrics. Here in Detroit, we have an excellent alternative (Canadian) rock station called 89x. Everyday at 7pm, they have two songs battle it out for The People’s Choice. The current and reigning winner:
"The Fold" is from Chicago... "the bends" is from surfacing too fast.
Wanna hear their song?
That’s a tasty synth track.
So onto the lyrics…
I hopped off the plane at L.A.X.
With a dream and my cardigan
Welcome to the land of fame excess,
Am I gonna fit in?
Jumped in the cab,
Here I am for the first time
Look to the right and I see the Hollywood sign
This is all so crazy
Everybody seems so famous
My tummy’s turnin’ and I’m feelin’ kinda home sick
Too much pressure and I’m nervous,
That’s when the taxi man turned on the radio
And a Jay Z song was on
Remind you of anyone else?
Well, the plane landed and when I came out
There was a dude who looked like a cop standing there with my name out
I ain’t trying to get arrested
I just got here
I sprang with the quickness like lightning, disappeared
I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I can say this cab is rare
But I thought ‘Now forget it’ – ‘Yo homes to Bel Air’
It’s not exactly the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, but it’s certainly reminiscent. Oh. And about that Jay Z song? Miley’s never heard any song by HOVA, because she did not write the song. Jessica “Jessie” Cornish did, and BONUS! She’s British (and can sing circles around Miley, btw).
Back to the chorus:
So I put my hands up
They’re playing my song,
And the butterflies fly away
I’m noddin’ my head like yeah
I’m movin’ my hips like yeah
Mya, do you have anything you’d like to say… oh, I don’t know… how about, your love is like… wo? The remainder is a repetition of the first part, just with different words.
I guess the biggest problem I have with the song is the cloying patriotism. When Bruce Springsteen sang about how he was Born in the U.S.A., I believed him. Okay, it’s probably not fair to compare the Boss‘ song about disenfranchised American soldiers to Hannah Montana’s tune about not wearing stilettos because she “never got the memo.” But his heart was in his throat when he sang that song. Dollar signs were in Billy Ray’s eyes when she sang hers.
(SIDENOTE: Try on Kesha’s Tick Tock – I’m sorry – Ke$ha’s Tik Tok as an alternative to Party in the U.S.A. Most of the same earworm ingredients are there:
lift a few themes from other songs (“Don’t stop…” hook = Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance” hook, also repetitive last word in phrase, à la Black Eyed Peas’ Meet Me Halfway)
drop in a couple famous names (Diddy, Mick Jagger)
mention “partying” in a patriotic manner (“…but the party don’t stop…”)
Rumored to be about singer/songwriter Johnny Rzeznik’s childhood. Both of his parents died when he was young, and he’s singing the song to his sisters that raised him. BONUS DOWNER: His father was an alcoholic. And just remember where you’re at when singing this.
Singer/songwriter Brian Vander Ark wrote this song that covers these incidents: a cancelled wedding, an abortion, and a suicide. Only one really happened (see the next song for a hint). BONUS RUMOR: My brother went to Western Michigan University, where this band also hailed. Story goes they were kicked out of WMU because one of the band members raped a girl. Party time.
Band front man (duh) Ben Folds’ girlfriend has an abortion, and this melodic mood killer (bad choice of words?) tries to express how he felt… and succeeds. BONUS SALT IN THE WOUND: The procedure takes place the day after Christmas. BONUS HOT PEPPER SAUCE IN THE WOUND: They were still in high school.
Lead singer Ed Kowalczyk dedicated this song to a friend that was killed by a drunk driver. The drunk driver was fleeing from police after committing a robbery. The friend – she was only 19. BONUS SILVER LINING: She donated her organs and saved the lives of others, including a 10-month-old baby. That’s what the song is really about. But still… bummer.
Anyone that doesn’t know the story behind this song is lucky. Well consider yourself lucky no more. It’s about how Eric Clapton felt after his 4-year-old son, Conor, fell out of a window — on the 53rd floor of an NYC apartment building. BONUS “REALLY?!” He hasn’t performed this song since 2004. His reason:
I didn’t feel the loss anymore, which is so much a part of performing those songs. I really have to connect with he feelings that were there when I wrote them. They’re kind of gone and I really don’t want them to come back, particularly. My life is different now. They probably just need a rest and maybe I’ll introduce them for a much more detached point of view.
This final bit contains the Unholy Trilogy which have actually caused me to leave a bar. If you have to click any because either A) you don’t know it or B) you actually like it… I hate you.
SIDENOTE: If you feel the need to reignite any karaoke night obliterated by any of the above performances, feel free to press the button below to save the night, despite what this list might claim:
Perviously used in this post, it goes along purrfectly with this edition of Musical Musings. If you dove into this post willy-nilly without reading the above title, or if you have an aversion to reading large letters in bold typeface, allow me to introduce you to two of the most fascinating felines ever to grace the music scene (not counting Keyboard Cat or Josie and the Pussycats*, ‘natch).
The Classical Approach:
The Modern Take (wait for the breakdown at the end):
The Interpretive (Canine) Dance:
*It’s a shame, but I forgot how cute Tara Reid actually was, and I really do miss Rachael Leigh Cook. Wha’ happen to her? And look how young Rosario Dawson, um, looks. Eight years really makes a difference, I guess. And that’s my deep thought for the day.
As a self-proclaimed prankster, I have to admit I love it when musicians release their crossover tunes onto easy-listening stations, knowing full well that their CD is nothing like that one song. Unwitting grandmothers and soccer moms hear it and think, “What a pleasant melody,” so they head to Target to pick it up, and image their shock at the remainder of the album. (I wanted to go into a whole thing about grandmothers looking for LP’s and cassette tapes, but I thought it was mean and stopped myself.)
So what better way to express the level of shock value than by rating them with surprised grandmothers?
The latest culprit: Shinedown, with their album The Sound of Madness
Oh, and what can I say about Extra co-host, Mark McGrath’s, “humble” beginnings in Sugar Ray. For the record (clever pun!), their first CD, Lemonade and Brownies (juvenile pun!) looked like this:
Nicole Eggert of "Charles In Charge" and something called... "Baywatch"?
It was their second album, Floored, that pulled the bait-and-switch.
(SIDENOTE: Both of the above videos were integral to launching McG’s future career as a feature film director. So every time you see Mark McGrath mugging on Extra, you can thank him for making Lemonade=Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle and Brownies=Terminator Salavation possible. And McGrath <> McG? Do I smell a conspiracy? Nope. Just turds.)
This edition of Musical Musings is the beginning of something beautiful. No, they’re not going to all be about The (phenomenal) Monkees (you/I wish). Moving forward, I’m hoping and planning that they will be more coherent and thought-provoking than they’ve been, and much less pot-headed sounding (not that I was ever high when I wrote them… it’s simply reminiscent of my babble state, possibly brought on by my love of music and vast amounts of sugar-laced products).
AnyTheWho, here are some factoids (robotic-sounding facts that are in no way robotic) I just learned about The Monkees:
Glam rocker David Bowie was born David Robert Hayward-Jones and originally performed under the name Davy Jones. Due to the rising popularity of the lead singer of this post’s headliner, he took the same last name as the Alamo hero, Jim Bowie, and his knife, which ironically shared the same name.
Michael Nesmith’s mother, Bette Nesmith Graham, invented Liquid Paper. She originally called it Mistake Out; we mistakenly call it, White Out (which by the way looks like a horrible movie).
JazzSinger/songwriter Neil Diamond wrote four songs for them: “I’m a Believer,” “A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You,” “Lookout, Here Comes Tomorrow,” and “Love to Love,” and not “Last Train to Clarksville” or “Daydream Believer” as previously thought (by me).
None of these factoids have anything to do with The Monkees specifically…
I might be setting myself up for ridicule here, but I sure do enjoy the lilting voice of Taylor Swift. (I’ve talked about her before, and thus handed in my man card.)
I enjoy women singers in general, but the ones that write their own material… they really get through to me. My stonewalled heart crumbles for these ladies, so go ahead and pick away while my guards are down.
On that note (pun!), allow me to get to my latest musing…
While watching the music video for Taylor’s new song, You Belong With Me, I was reminded of another (though not-quite-as-lilting) songstress… Avril Lavigne. Namely, her tune Sk8r Boi kickflipped into my brain.
Both songs deal with the same idea of a guy with the wrong girl and the right girl is right in front of you, but at second glance (the visual as opposed to the aural), I was reminded moreso of a different diddy: Girlfriend (which in turn ripped off the Rubinoos’I Want To Be Your Boyfriend, but I digress).
Both videos feature multiple performances by the singer with different colored hairstyles, and in each video, their alter egos fight over a boy. (Christina Aguilera did the same thing in her Candyman video, as did Britney Spears in Toxic, although they weren’t competing with themselves. I think Mariah Carey did it once, too, but that’s where I’m drawing my line of research.)
I guess what I’m trying to say is two things:
I like Taylor Swift’s version of the age old, um, video (because she’s cute).
I’m changing my desktop background to this (because she’s cute):
Didn't intend for this image to be so creepy...
"I said C U L8R, Avril..." - sk8rmunki (my old desktop background)
An 80’s staple and a 90’s thumbtack (and a 2000’s bottle of correction fluid), filmmaker John Hughes wasinfluential (Kevin Smith and Judd Apatow site him as such), omnipresent (he released at least two pictures a year for awhile there), and iconic (see below).
For those that grew up with his films, the majority of his earlier works stand out in our memories mostly because of the songs associated with them. With his passing at the age of 59, let’s synch up his celluloid hits and misses with their synonymous Billboard hits and misses.
I know there’s plenty of other tunes in his movies to choose from (such as Danke Schoen and Twist and Shout for example), but these are the most direct songs associated with these films.
Thank you, Mr. Hughes, for the fond memories. Not so much so for the Flubbers.
(P.S. You were thisclose to being featured in one of my The Sh– To Just Sh–ty posts. Bullet dodged, my friend. Farewell, and well done…)
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