"Sexy Bitch"

She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before
Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood whore
I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl
Without being disrespectful

While I understand that in today's politically correct climate, one does need to take extra care to avoid offending the easily-offended, many songwriters still seem to be perfectly capable of praising a woman without having to wonder aloud if they are able to be polite about it. Besides, the time to worry about being disrespectful is *before* you contrast her with the neighborhood whore. No matter how much of a compliment was intended - hey, she's *nothing* like the hooker on the corner! - it still seems to be a poor start.

Okay then, *now* you're going to try harder to not be disrespectful, right? I mean you emphasize as much (very catchily, I might add) in the bridge. So let's go to the chorus:

Damn you's a sexy bitch, a sexy bitch
Damn you's a sexy bitch, damn girl
Damn you's a sexy bitch, a sexy bitch
Damn you's a sexy bitch, damn girl

<facepalm>

Yeah, that's just not very high on the respect-o-meter. The radio edit ("Sexy Chick") is marginally more respectful, but that's a low bar. A kick in the shins would be marginally more respectful. Next time try much, much harder.

"Hello"

Because I haven't posted for a while, Ryan North of Dinosaur Comics took it upon himself to do my work for me. He does a great job of deconstructing Lionel Richie's "Hello". Thanks, Ryan!

"Like A G6"

Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard
When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard
Sippin sizzurp in my ride, in my ride, like Three 6
Now I'm feelin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now now now now now now I'm feelin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now now now now now now I'm feelin so fly like a G6

Holy wow, these lyrics make my head hurt. I was wondering when I'd get to be too old to enjoy pop music; given that this song is currently the number one song in the USA, that moment is officially right now. It's been a good ride; pop music and I have had some great times together. Sure we've had some rough patches - the Black Eyed Peas are a current bone of contention - but now that cut-rate ripoffs of the Black Eyed Peas are scoring number one hits, I think pop music is finally telling me it's over. "Go turn the station to some AAA or Hot AC, old man. You just don't get me anymore" it says. "Kids these days drink sizzurp and get slizzard while texting about their three and G sixes, and you're still doing the Safety Dance."

Well, I was never sure what the Safety Dance is, and I'm not going to try to find out what the hell a "G6" is. That's exactly what they want me to do...

"Waterfalls"

Don't go chasing waterfalls
Please stick to the rivers
And the lakes that you're used to

Chuck Klosterman does my work for me in his recent book Eating the Dinosaur:

"At the time [1999], TLC was advising me not to hang around with scrubs. This was kind of like their advice from 1994 about not chasing waterfalls. I never got that. Why not chase waterfalls? They're so easy to chase. It would have been far more sensible if deceased arsonist Lisa Left Eye had told me not to chase something dangerous, like wildebeests. 'Don't go chasing wildebeests.'"

"Don't go chasing wildebeests" scans nicely, but I'd be tempted to add "especially not into unfamiliar lakes and rivers they cross in large numbers, as you might get eaten by hungry crocodiles" before "Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to."

"Before He Cheats"

I dug my key into the side

Of his pretty little souped-up 4 wheel drive

Carved my name into his leather seat

I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights

Slashed a hole in all 4 tires

And maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

I'm still hoping for a sequel to this song, sung from the boyfriend's point of view, in which he tells of her month or two in prison ("Right now, she's probably carving shivs from her jailhouse toothbrush"), warning her that maybe next time she'll think before she destroys another person's property. Or maybe even from her point of view, twenty years later when she's a lonely, bitter cat-lady, wondering why she can't ever seem to hold on to a man. Maybe next time she'll think before she goes berserk after letting her imagination run wild.

As far as we know, based on her own testimony, she destroys her (ex-) boyfriend's truck after merely *imagining* her guy flirting with some gal in some bar. Her behavior might indicate that she's an unreliable witness at best. She don't know that this is happening at all. It makes me want to shout "You go girl… to a psychiatrist!"

But the silver lining of the song is that she might have saved a little trouble for the next guy, who'll now know to steer clear of her craziness.

"TiK ToK"

Ain't got a care in world, but got plenty of beer
Ain't got no money in my pocket, but I'm already here
And now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick 'em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger

The current hit "Tik Tok" is the musical equivalent of a VH1 show: an aggressively talentless, insultingly unsubtle paean to the joys of what some call "partying"- that is, getting wasted and fighting. It hardly seems fair to complain that the lyrics are insipid.

But really, Mick Jagger? Now I get that rock musicians are considered sexy simply by virtue of their being rock musicians. Women swoon over Mick Jagger because he *is* Mick Jagger, not because he looks like Mick Jagger. Who'd want someone who merely looks like Mick Jagger? That's like looking for a guy who's as faithful as Tiger Woods.

But hey, eye of the beholder and all that. Even so, he's 44 years older than her - that's not twice, but thrice her age! Never mind daddy issues, perhaps Ke$ha has granddaddy issues.

EAVB_VNKMCKQDSK

"Send Me An Angel"

Send me an angel
Send me an angel
Right now
Right now

Wait a minute, just whom do you think you're talking to? You can't order God around like that. No wonder you've "never been lucky in love" - He's probably punishing you for your insolence. Just be thankful that He hasn't sent you an angel to smite thine impertinent ass.

"The Girl Is Mine"

I don't understand the way you think
Saying that she's yours, not mine
Sending roses and your silly dreams
Really just a waste of time
Because she's mine
The doggone girl is mine

Trivia: This was the first single released from "Thriller", reaching #2 on the Billboard Hot 100. But it was definitely was not a song that foretold the coming "Thriller" phenomenon.

On one hand, it's good that this dispute over a girl descends into lame singing, not lame fisticuffs ("Paul, I think I told you I'm a lover, not a fighter"). On the other hand, it's pretty certain that the "doggone girl" will be gone after hearing this song. For these are the possibilities:

• If neither guy is telling the truth about her claims of devotion, she'll quickly disabuse them of the notion that she's either of theirs.


• If both them are telling the truth, they'll come to the realization that they've been played and send her packing.


• If only one them is telling the truth, she'll have to wonder "WTF does he mean 'doggone girl'?"

Regardless of where the truth lies, she'll undoubtedly be convinced that these guys are way lame. Very very rich, but lame.

And the less said about the "25th Anniversary Remix Featuring will.i.am." the better.

"Birthday Sex"

Or maybe we can float on top my waterbed
You close your eyes as I improv between your legs
We work our way from kitchens, stoves and tables
Girl, you know I'm more than able to please yeah
You say you wanted flowers on the bed
But you got me and now it's on again

This was the top R&B song in the country last week, and I heartily approve of the sentiment. I am in complete agreement that we need to raise awareness of and have a national discussion on the very important topic of birthday sex.

Especially because today is my birthday.

While birthday sex may be a fantastic idea, "Birthday Sex" is a lousy song, both musically, and (more to the point) lyrically. Not to get all old-fogey here, but whatever happened to the smooth subtlety of a Marvin Gaye or Barry White? Okay, those are ambitious targets, but it is asking too much to at least try to show a little charm and class?

This song takes a beautiful concept (especially for today) and makes it sound juvenile. Like it was written by a dirty-minded thirteen-year-old virgin. (Stoves? Really?) Which might make some sort of sense, given that much of the song's airplay is on radio stations aimed at thirteen-year-olds (I'm looking at you, "92.3 NOW"). And that's a whole other problem right there.

Yet another problem that you may be having is what to get me for my birthday. Well, hint, hint... But if you're not around, then could you please at least find me a better song on the subject?

"Live And Let Die"

But if this ever-changing world in which we live in
Makes you give in and cry
Say live and let die

This lyric never used to bother me until my wife pointed out that it's ungrammatical. She'd accept either "world which we live in" or "world in which we live", but repeating the "in" is just plain wrong. I countered that maybe the real lyric is "world in which we're living" - it's not, but hey, it fits - but my wife said she'd hate that, too, because it would be lousy enunciating.

So unfortunately it now bothers me as well every time I hear it. Though it's still the best Bond theme. Even better than the title theme to "Octopussy".

(Disclaimer: There is no title theme to "Octopussy". But there should be.)

(Disclaimer: Do not take Paul McCartney's advice. Dissatisfaction with a society in flux is an acceptable excuse to kill people only if you're James Bond.)

"The Heat Is On"

The heat is on
The heat is on
The heat is on
Oh, it's on the streets
The heat is on

There's nothing really wrong with these lyrics. Repeating the song title over and over in the chorus is perhaps a bit lazy, but it's way too common a feature of pop songs for me to have a legitimate issue with. No, what annoys me is that I am doomed to hum this song to myself every time the dang heat comes on in my house. We have a bunch of old clanking radiators, so every winter's day it's like *clang*, *bonk*, *klunk*, and here comes the sax riff...

"Let's Dance"

Let's dance
Put on your red shoes and dance the blues

How does one "dance the blues"? It seems to me that the blues are a music genre designed to be resistant to being danced to. And even if it's purposeful incongruity, not just a bad lyrical choice, it still doesn't explain why he sings it like Elmer Fudd. (Better than singing it like Daffy Duck, I suppose.)

"Rapture"

Back to back
Sacroiliac
Spineless movement
And a wild attack

"Rapture" is most famous for being the first number one song to feature rapping since Lorne Greene's "Ringo". However, clumsy rhymes (even by the old-school standards of the day) about a disco-era Purple People-Eater somehow failed to bring rap into the mainstream; it was also the last number one song to feature rapping until Vanilla Ice's "Ice Ice Baby" ten years later. And of course rap took after that.

To a ten-year-old boy like myself, this was just about the coolest song ever. A man from Mars! Eating cars! And bars! And guitars! What's not to love? I especially enjoyed imagining the guitar player fighting with the Man from Mars during the solo at the end. Yet I never gave much thought to what Debbie Harry was singing in the rest of the song. So I looked it up. And... huh?

According to Wikipedia,"the sacroiliac joint is the joint between the sacrum, at the base of the spine, and the ilium of the pelvis, which are joined by ligaments. It is a strong, weightbearing synovial joint with irregular elevations and depressions that produce interlocking of the bones." Well that's even sillier than a club-hopping alien who ate your head.

It's a strange word to have in a song that's not a mnemonic tune designed to help med students in their anatomy classes. ("The hip bone's connected to the sacroiliac bone...") It's even stranger that the word is just hanging there as if it were a common interjection, like "Spleen!" or "Pancreas!". A sentence is called for, or at least a phrase.

Perhaps "Total Eclipse Of The Sacroiliac"? (Can one turn around with an eclipsed sacroiliac?)

"Making Love Out Of Nothing At All"

I can make the runner stumble
I can make the final block
And I can make every tackle at the sound of the whistle
And I can make all the stadiums rock

Of all the crazy things kids do in college, singing "Making Love Out Of Nothing At All" to annoy your roommates is probably the lamest. Nobody remembers exactly who started it or why, but we all remember that it became our room's unofficial theme song, we sang it so much. We even once called in a song request to a local adult contemporary radio station (STAR 104.5). Remember kids that this was in the days before you could steal any song you'd like over the internet. If the local record store didn't have what you wanted to hear, you'd have to hope you could get through to the local radio station and have a deejay take pity on you. Because we sure as heck weren't going to ask our friends if they had this song so we could tape it from them.

The deejay at STAR 104.5 did take pity on us - well, he was quite cool about it. He laughed at our unusual request and said he'd be willing to play it, but he'd have to check with the manager. When we called back a half-hour later, the deejay gave us the manager's response: "Are you *kidding* me?" So no song for us - the station was pretty soft, but apparently not that soft.

So I do have a soft spot for this song, as it reminds me of my wild college days. Some may describe the song as creepy and pathetic, but there are some pretty, if melodramatic (what Jim Steinman song isn't?), lyrics in there. The ones I quote above aren't those.

Certainly, I have no issue with the guys from Air Supply playing football (or presumably, Australian Rules football). One can sing sappy ballads without being a total wimp (see also James Blunt). I'm not on board with their stadium-rocking ability, however. It doesn't seem like their forte.

The song was originally written for Meat Loaf (as was "Total Eclipse of the Heart", by the way) - you can totally see him singing it, right? - so the lyric would make a little more sense coming from him. Not coming from a band who was deemed too soft to play on STAR 104.5.

"Temperature"

Well woman the way the time cold I wanna be keepin' you warm
I got the right temperature for shelter you from the storm
Oh lord, gal I got the right tactics to turn you on
And girl I wanna be the papa, you can be the mom, oh oh!

Admit it, unless you're from Jamaica, you have no idea what Sean Paul sings in any of his songs. Heck, even if you were to read his lyrics, you're going to have a hard time figuring out what it all means. No, it's really enough to just bop along happily to the riddim, mouthing the occasional words that you kind of maybe understand.

Until you actually do read the lyrics. Then it's hard not to be slightly creeped out. It's not that the song seems to be one long boast about his sexual prowess - that's been a proud theme of pop music since "Sixty Minute Man". It's that the song seems to be one long boast about his sexual prowess as the sole reason to have a baby with him!

Call me old-fashioned, but... ew.

If I need shelter from a storm, please just hand me an umbrella instead.

"Escape (The Piña Colada Song)"

So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew..."

The very first line in this song ("I was tired of my lady") is perhaps one of the most evocative opening lines in all of popular music. Instantly you're transported to a world of ferns and polyester, of shag carpets and variety shows, of a newfangled concept called the "personal ad" and lounge lizards who use the phrase "my lady". The world of Larry from Three's Company.

This was the last number one song of the seventies, and such phrases keep the song firmly rooted there. A current remake of the song would surely involve references to match.com or eHarmony, but that would strip away some of the dated cheesiness that is essential to its charm.

You know the story: a man loses interest in his lady, reads a personal ad of someone who seems more interesting, arranges a meeting with the new lady, discovers that this new lady is none other than his current lady, then laughter and a happy ending. They don't make story songs like that anymore.

Now it's almost unfair to rag on the lyrics when Rupert Holmes himself admits in the song that "I'm nobody's poet" and allows only that the lyrics aren't "half bad" (no boastful rapper, he). Still, if I were the woman walking into the bar, discovering that not only is my boyfriend planning on cheating on me, but he's about to find out that I was planning on cheating on him, I'd probably react a bit more strongly than an oddly emotionless "Oh, it's you". It irks me that Holmes delivers the phrase with a shrug, when it's the freaking climax of the song!

I'm also a bit skeptical about the happy ending. I can accept that they laugh about the situation and make up instead of launching into the mother of all fights right there in the fern bar. But anyone can see that the relationship is doomed. After the piña coladas wear off, what then? Back to a crippling lack of communication, boredom, and the personal ads, I'm afraid.

"Eternal Flame"

Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling
Do you feel my heart beating, do you understand?

If the answer is no, I don't feel your heart beating, then I'd understand that I'd need to call an ambulance right away. Although you're still calmly singing and coming on to me, so I might have to conclude that you're one of the undead. But what type of undead? I think vampires must have beating hearts. Otherwise, why would a stake to the heart kill one, right? So maybe you'd be a zombie, except I'd expect zombies to be clamoring for my brain rather than stopping to croon a sappy love song.

Let's see, you took my hand so you're not a ghost, I don't see bandages so you're obviously not a mummy, and you're not scary enough to be a nazgul. That leaves... unhand me, you succubus!!

Nah, I'm just teasing, don't do that. I'm just babbling because I can't believe you just grabbed my hand and placed it on your boob. Do you really expect me to notice if your heart is beating or not?

(UPDATE 2/27/09: Gotta love this comic...)

"Sk8er Boi"

He was a boy
She was a girl
Can I make it any more obvious?
He was a punk.
And she did ballet.
What more can I say?

Yes, Avril. You can make it much more obvious. Telling me they're a boy and a girl is not nearly enough information. Are they star-crossed lovers who'll be driven to suicide by disapproving families? Are they brother and sister striving to take down the Empire? Is one a fair maiden imprisoned in a castle by her evil stepmother and the other a lovable scamp running away down the Mississippi?

Sure, maybe in retrospect it was indeed obvious that you were singing about some low-life punk and some girl who's been signed up for ballet classes. That would have been my next guess. And that's all you really needed to say. Really. Yet you feel compelled to continue the idiotic story, the moral of which seems to be that one never knows who might become famous, so one should always put out to hedge one's bets.

Come on, Avril, can't you leave the poor girl alone? She's a sad single mom no doubt regretting that her dreams of becoming a world-famous ballet dancer have come to naught, wallowing in so much self-pity that her friends don't even call to ask her out anymore. The last thing she needs is some snotty teen pop star writing an insanely catchy song making fun of her plight.

That makes you an awful person, Avril. An awful person singing an awful song from the awful title to the awful opening lines above through an awful story to the blessed fade out. But what's most awful is that I can't stop singing it!!

"Judy's Turn To Cry"

Oh, one night I saw them kissin' at a party,
So I kissed some other guy.
Johnny jumped up and he hit him,
'Cause he still loved me, that's why.

Thanks to Lesley Gore, it's difficult to even contemplate throwing a party these days without some part of your brain reminding you that, if you are so inclined, you are perfectly within your rights to cry. Tragedy does not even need to strike; the phrase "and I'll cry if I want to" follows the declaration "it's my party" as naturally as one knows who is to blame when one is shot through the heart.

Poor Lesley's situation is indeed tragic; she spends much of her party wondering where her Johnny went with Judy, only to discover that they've been out necking or petting or whatever it is boys and girls did in the early 60s. Most people think the story ends there, but there's a happy ending in the sequel "Judy's Turn To Cry". Sort of. The first two verses in the song have Lesley recapping the original, interspersed with tantalizing foreshadowing in the chorus. Seems Judy now has reason to weep. But why?

Because Johnny is a 24-karat asshat, that's why. Leaving his girlfriend's party holding hands with another girl was kind of jerk move. Returning to the *same* party with the girl is either thick-headed or sadistic. But punching a guy who was kissing his ex-girlfriend is simply psychotic. Especially since at the very same time he himself was making out with the tramp he left Lesley for. How could she possibly be happy to be back with that lunkhead?

Obviously, she has some self-esteem issues. And she's possibly slightly psychotic herself. Think about it - some poor guy was minding his own business when - wham! - this crazy girl is all over him, trying to make her gorilla ex-boyfriend jealous. Then - wham! - he's decked by the gorilla, and the girl leaves singing brightly at some other girl's emotional pain, with nary a thought as to his physical pain.

Judy should thank the stars that she was saved from a loser like Johnny. As for Lesley, if that's the type of guy she was attracted to, it's no wonder she eventually decided to swear off men forever.