Top 10 Evaluation: November 1, 2014

So we're gonna try something new here! A we're-not-even-gonna-pretend-it's-regular segment wherein one of us (probably me, Austin's blog ADD has kicked in.) breaks down the quality of that week's Top 10. Well, given Billboard's bizarre schedule, it's actually the future's Top 10.  Also, given the dominance of a certain corporation, it's really more their Top 10 than yours.

So, without further ado, here's the songs Clear Channel has decided that you like:

#10. "Don't" by Ed Sheerhan

Look at this face:

Tell me you don't want to punch that until it is an unrecognizable pulp. And if you don't, then look at it again:

And you keep looking at it until you want to punch it into an unrecognizable pulp.

OK, I'll confess, I shouldn't let a personal desire to kick the crap out of a guy fuel my disgust of the song. I'll let my disgust of the song fuel itself. This is a whiny Livejournal post from 2003 set to music. There are great heartache songs written by spurned men and women from a place of deep anger. This is a guy recounting what happened and recording it on a track that does nothing new or interesting. He does say the f word, though. I guess that's supposed to impress us--it really does nothing for me but add to the whole "pissy high schooler" vibe that the song already has.

#9: "Hot N****" by Bobby Shmurda

Huh. A generic rap song that's gained popularity because of a dance move? Never heard one of those before. If I had heard one of them, I'm sure the artist who performed it is still rich and successful and well-known today. Bobby has a bright future ahead of him.

#8: "Stay With Me" by Sam Smith

This song is the equivalent of listening to a man cry for three and a half minutes. The dude is--wait, I found a never-before-seen picture of Sam Smith:

#7: "Animals" by Maroon 5 (Fair warning, the video is less "sexy" more "utterly terrifying.")

Honestly, I have no issue with most of Maroon 5's stuff. But the goal of this album (or at least the first two singles) seems to be to remind us that Adam Levine can hit high notes. Did you know he can hit high notes? He can hit high notes. Hiiiiiiiiiiigh notes. We get it, Maroon 5. Please go back to making stuff like "Stutter" and "Harder to Breathe" and songs that have guitar parts and music that we can hear over your lead singer's caterwauling.

#6: "Don't Tell 'Em" by Jeremih

I promise you, reader--the following is the actual chorus of this song:

Don't tell 'em

Don't tell 'em

You ain't even,

Don't tell 'em

Don't tell 'em

You ain't even

You ain't even gotta tell 'em

Don't tell 'em

Don't tell 'em

You ain't even

Don't tell 'em

Don't tell 'em

You ain't even

You ain't even gotta tell 'em

Don't tell 'em

Don't tell 'em

How do you make fun of that?! It's unmockable. To steal a line directly from the humor wizards at Penny Arcade, it's like making fun of a clown. What are you going to poke fun at? I'm more concerned with the callousness the music industry exhibited by releasing this song. It's pretty clear Jeremih had a stroke in the studio, and instead of taking him to the hospital, they recorded it and released it as a single.

#5: "Habits (Stay High)" by Tove Lo

The lyrics tell a tale of a woman engaging in rampant self-destructive behavior because her beau left. Great message. Next time, adopt a freaking cat.

#4: "Black Widow" by Iggy Azalea

(Go to the 1:45 mark if you want to hear the song. You fool)

We've already talked about everyone's favorite awful Australian hip-hop starlet. Now here she is with "Bunny Boiling: the Song!" Our last two numbers have been about angry or depressed ladies regarding former relationships. Let's change that with an awful, awful change of pace.

#3: "Bang Bang" by Jessie J

Here we have an example of a common misconception. The ability to sing loud does not mean that you can sing well. Budding pop singers, please take note. Also, as a note to the six motherfletching songwriters, here's a link to the dictionary.com definition for "subtlety." Try using it sometime, OK?!

#2: "Shake it Off" by Taylor Swift

If you play the rap section of this song backwards, you won't hear any secret messages telling you to kill yourself. Which actually means that listening to the song in reverse is better than listening to it forwards, because I can assure you that listening to it "normally" will test your will to live.

#1: "All About That Bass" by Meghan Trainor

Hey, music-buying public. Couple things here:

1) "Catchy" does not mean "good." Stop confusing the two.

2) The line "I'm bringing booty back" is totally true! (If you're willing to ignore basically every mainstream rap song and multiple country tunes wherein the male singers talk about how much they appreciate a good-sized rear end, that is...)

3) Curvy women are awesome. I agree. So are skinny ladies. Unbelievably, it's possible for people to be attractive regardless of hair color, race, or body type. Quit with the "real women have curves" rhetoric. "Real women" come in all shapes and sizes, regardless of whether or not they have "a little more booty to hold at night." (That is an actual line, honest to goodness.)

4) This isn't doo-wop. Quit classifying it as such. Go listen to the Platters and stop listening to this Möbius strip of a song.

Well, that's it for this week! See you again whenever the Top 10 is rancid enough for me to complain about!

Andrew Reviews: Play it Again

"Artist:" Luke Bryan (featuring no one. Thank the Lord.)
Chart Position at time of writing: 20 (Peak: 14)
This video best viewed with a gun pointed at your speakers: Link.

Before you attempt to defend this song with the usual argument: Read this.

Review: Is it too harsh to say that modern country music has become a flavorless paste hurled into the mouths and ears of the American people by artists who are either clean-cut brown-haired pretty boy punchouts or generic blondes, all of whom are utterly indistinguishable from one another? Yes, it probably is too harsh to say that, but it's closer to the truth than anyone in Nashville would care to admit.

So here we have a generic country song by a generic country singer about generic country things--it got highly favorable reviews from the country press. Let's see if we can find out why! Go, lyrics, go!

She was sittin' all alone over on the tailgate.

True story: I picked this song after one of our final exams. A student was standing over my shoulder and she said "Oh, that song isn't as bad as most country." I'd never heard the tune nor had I read the lyrics, so I challenged her--I asked how long it took for the song to mention trucks, beer, or use the word "girl.*" We then looked up the lyrics. It took us 1 line. Off to a great start.

Furthermore, whose truck is this? Hers? If not, it seems awful rude of this woman to sit on some random stranger's truck, since she "ain't got no" boyfriend. (See below.) In fairness, this song only has two writers, neither of whom are Luke Bryan, so it's possible that everyone just forgot that detail.

Tan legs swingin' by a Georgia plate.

Anyone else having "Cruise" flashbacks? I'm having "Cruise" flashbacks. They're not that bad once you lose your will to keep breathing. Eventually you black out, wake up, and the song is over and all you've lost are a few thousand brain cells and 3 and a half minutes of your life. So it's a lot like listening to the song, but with less brain damage.

I was lookin' for her boyfriend
Thinkin' no way she ain't got one.

I'm really not sure what direction to go with these lines. Are attractive women required to have boyfriends at all times? If they do, are those boyfriends supposed to be with them at all times? Is the context of this song a party? Because the video provides no help at all, it's just a generic video advertising how fun it is to go to a Luke Bryan concert, which seems a bit Triumph of the Will-ish to me.

So, if it's not a party and she's just sitting on the tailgate of a random truck, it's a fair bet that she has no boyfriend. Or he is dead, because she has killed him and used the truck for body disposal. Ideally, this song ends with Luke Bryan being stabbed because he picked up this random girl based on her legs, but (SPOILER!) that is not how the song ends.

Soon as I sat down I was fallin' in love 

Well, at least he's committed to being completely shallow. There's nothing wrong with immediate physical attraction. But to say you're "falling in love" from the second you sat down is inaccurate. You may, however, be falling in lust, which requires minimal effort, so it should be right up this song's alley.

Tryin' to put a little sugar in her Dixie cup.

This is either the worst intentional sexual innuendo I have ever read or the best unintentional sexual innuendo I have ever read.

Talkin' over the speakers in the back of that truck
She jumped up and cut me off

While the remainder of the song attempts to bear out the lady's love of the unnamed tune, I have an alternative interpretation of these lines: 30 seconds of shouting with Luke Bryan over whatever mediocre music was playing on the back of the mystery truck was too much for our leggy potential serial killer, so she decided that the next tune that came on the radio would be "her song," just to make him shut up.

She was like, "Oh my God, this is my song

Anyone else feel like they're listening to some frat douche telling the tale of one of his sexual conquests? In case you don't, listen to the song (unpleasant, I know) and pay special attention to the way Mr. Bryan sings that line.

I been listening to the radio all night long
Sittin' 'round waitin' for it to come on, and here it is."

I want to guess what the song is! It's probably some new-wave awful country. But I like to think that it's a wild card. Like the Ludacris classic "Area Codes".

She was like, "Come here boy, I wanna dance."

You know, my serial killer joke is actually much less funny in the context of these lines. I am legitimately afraid for Luke's life if he keeps seeing this woman. She is terrifying.

'Fore I said a word she was takin' my hand.

OK, "dance" and "hand" don't rhyme. Dance and pants, however...

I should be a songwriter.

Spinnin' me round 'til it faded out
And she gave me a kiss.

Forced dancing and a "willing" kiss. This song may be a cry for help. It's entirely possible that "jumped up and cut me off" will take a much darker tone if he dates this woman.

And she said, "Play it again, play it again, play it again."

OK, she has literally no interest in him. She liked the song, she has no hair or eye color, she has had nothing mentioned about her personality at all. This woman is not a woman. She is a prop in the song. Her features through the lyrics of the ENTIRE 4 MINUTE PIECE OF MUSIC can be boiled down to: a) nice legs, b) likes unnamed song. I own t-shirts with more personality than this girl is given by the lyrics.

And I said, "Play it again, play it again, play it again."

Little known fact, Luke Bryan is actually 33% parrot due to a mixup at the factory where they make the boring cardboard cutout country singers. Miranda Lambert is 20% hyena for the same reason.

Fortunately, we have arrived at the second verse. Unfortunately, there is a second verse.

I'd 'a gave that DJ my last dime,
If he woulda played it just one more time

In 2014, it's highly unlikely that a DJ will play the same song twice in a row unless he's trying to get himself fired. However, I think Luke has (unintentionally, of course) stumbled upon the future of music. Since most Top 40 stations have approximately 8 songs in their library at any given time, and since that number is declining by the day it seems, it's entirely possible that by 2020, all stations will just play the same tune over and over again. "My song" will be everyone else's song too. Which is just what President Cyrus will want.

But a little while later we were sitting in the drive in my truck.

Unrelated to the last lines, but it does further the mystery of the original truck. Because here, Luke describes the truck they're in as "my truck." But the truck at the end of the first verse was "that truck." So was the original truck where the song played hers?

Because now they're in his truck, which means we must assume that the other truck is sitting in the field, no doubt being dusted for prints by the GBI, since they found a body nearby. The corpse appeared to have been beaten to death with a can of Bud Lite and a copy of Ludacris's Word of Mouf was found in the vicinity. Investigators suspect the victim's ex-girlfriend of the killing and urge any pretty boy country singers with jacked up trucks and minimal brain activity to stay indoors, away from windows and forced dances.

'Fore I walked her to the door, I was scannin' like a fool
AM, FM, XM, too.

All this technology and neither one of you thinks to download the song on your phone and plug it into the speakers with an audio jack? Or stop by a Wal-Mart and buy the CD? Or call a station and request the song? Wouldn't that have been a more romantic gesture than randomly searching for a song on a medium you can't control? I know radio's pretty predictable (let's face it, this girl's "song" is a Top 40 hit that will be forgotten about in a week, just like her ex-boyfriend) but it's not that predictable.

But I stopped real quick when I heard that groove.

"Groove" eliminates most genres from our "What effing song is he talking about?" competition. No one describes any modern music as "groove" anymore. This leads me to conclude that her song is none other than the "Theme from Shaft" which is a remarkably good choice for someone who appears to be willingly locking lips with Luke Bryan.

Man you should have seen her light up.

Faint hope, but what are the odds this line has a double meaning and the mystery song is Afroman's "Because I Got High"? 

The chorus loops through again. Apparently the girl can't believe that the song came back on, despite pop & country radio having a near-miraculous propensity for repeating the same songs 50 times a day. They also dance in the headlights of Luke's truck. Any chance he left the thing in drive and it crushed both of them?

No? Fine, let's go to the bridgey-thingy.

The next Friday night we were sitting out under the stars

Away from all potential witnesses, no doubt. 

You should have seen her smile,
when I broke out my guitar.

If the video is to be believed, Luke does not play his own guitar, but he instead brought along some other dark haired dude to play guitar for him. No shame in that. One of my best friends once offered to follow me around on dates, hide in a bush and pop out with his acoustic guitar while playing Sixpence None the Richer's hit "Kiss Me." We never actually did that, mostly because it would have probably led to me getting slapped, Maced, or slap-Maced. One can only hope one of those things happens to Luke Bryan.

The repetitive chorus repeats again, making these last lines even more problematic. We're left to assume that my entire last paragraph is absurdist nonsense and that Luke brought his own guitar. So how the heck are they going to dance to a song that he's playing? What song is it? Whose truck was that at the beginning? Will this woman's reign of terror ever be stopped?

None of these questions are answered, but the song is over. We'll call that an even trade.

Recommended Alternative Listening: Well, let's see. The song is simultaneously boring and painful, but there's a lot of options here: David Allan Coe's "You Never Even Called Me By My Name" is a wonderful sendup of all the useless stereotypes of country music. Patsy Cline's "Crazy" was penned by Willie Nelson and is actually worth a twirl on the back of a pickup. If you'd like something more modern but not so stereotypical, I highly recommend Hayes Carll. "Grand Parade" is a good example: it's a love song like this one that somehow manages to be sweeter, sound different than everything else, and it doesn't mention a truck. Here's a song mocking country's massive love of trucks. Alternately, if you liked this song and hated my review, just turn on country radio. There's probably a good-looking brown haired guy or blonde girl singing a song you'd just love.

*--Explanation here.

Andrew's Country Credentials

Link that explains the post below, in case you don't want to read the whole thing or if you already know my credentials to review country music: You really should watch this.

Credentials: I normally don't do this, but I feel the need to explain something here. See, the self-appointed defenders of country music usually dismiss criticism of their preferred genre by saying that the critic "doesn't get it" or isn't the sort of person who country music is "for." To that end, lemme explain why I'm "allowed" to criticize country, so that accusation cannot be leveled at the country posts. There are a few reasons:

1.) I have Internet access and functioning ears. That really should be enough, but since it isn't...

2.) I had a country phase. It lasted through most of high school and into my sophomore year of college. I own all of Brooks & Dunn's albums except Cowboy Town, because Cowboy Town was 2 things: a) their last album and b) terrible. I listened to country radio with glee and dug into country's roots. Thanks to Dad's knowledge of country's history, I was able to dig into the Outlaw Movement, listening to the likes of Cash, Nelson, Coe, and Jennings (No links to those names provided, but if you only recognize them from Jason Aldean songs, you're doing country wrong.). I've listened to Red Headed Stranger cover to cover multiple times. I've lived in the South all my life and the rural South most of my life. I know how to drive a stick shift and a tractor. I know how to properly hunt, fish, and farm. I am a heterosexual Christian white male North Carolinian in his mid/late 20s. Modern country music is supposed to hit my demographic as squarely as it possibly can.

3. Sorta revisiting point 2 here, but knowledge of country's past is the reason my country phase ended. I came to realize that everything I was listening to sounded the same. Now, country music has always had some go-to song topics: drinking, cheating, etc. But somewhere, somehow, the concept of saying things tactfully went out the window, and country songs all began to sound the same. I know that the sound of a genre fluctuates, and 2014 country shouldn't sound exactly like 1974 country. That said, country songs should sound more like this and less like this.

But, hey, maybe you're still into country and you're OK with the way it sounds. That's cool, music is almost entirely subjective. Take this post as the ignorant hate speech that it is--it might make you laugh at least.

So now that you've read this, you should check out the review of Luke Bryan's craptastic "Play it Again." Because...goodness it's awful.

Andrew Reviews: Fancy

"Artists:" Iggy Azalea, "featuring" Charli XCX
Chart Position at time of writing: 4 (Current Peak)
Link which provides a legitimate reason for terrorists to hate us: Here.

WARNING: This is a truly terrible song and (by extension) a long review.

Review: I listen to a lot of music. I hear it in the halls being sung by students, I hear it on TV, I hear it on my radio. It's incredibly rare for me to hear a song so bad that I feel compelled to write about it the first time I hear it.

But this thing. This assault on my ears. This affront to music. I knew the first time I heard it that this is not only worthy of my time, it is worthy of the most powerful screed of insults I can muster. Because if this post prevents even ONE PERSON from purchasing this three minutes and nineteen seconds of pig vomit masquerading as a song, then it will go down as one of the best things I have EVER done in my time on this planet.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that this song probably won't turn up hidden in the Beatles' unreleased archives. Let's dive into the lyrics:

First thing's first, I'm the realest.

OK, let's not dive. Diving into shallow water can lead to severe injuries. Seriously, rappers. We get that all of you are "real." Even though most of you are projecting a patently fake persona to gain the ears of youth who will be sent to jail or the poorhouse when they try to emulate in real life your useless contributions to the world of music, we get that you're "real." Stop talking about it. Especially when it's not entirely clear what it means to be "real." Generally this refers to the phrase a "real n***a," which is a bit of a stretch for Iggy here, what with her being a white girl from Australia.

Just once I want a rapper to call themselves imaginary. I want Kendrick Lamar's next song to be 4 minutes of shouting about how he's just an auditory hallucination we've all been having for the past couple years. But that will have to wait. For now, let's see what brilliance Iggy (or one of the other 5 writers) was able to come up with for this next line.

Drop this and let the whole world feel it

Mostly harmless, so I'll just toss this in now. Click on that link to the video. Sit through the inevitable YouTube ad, and see how far you can make it into the song until Miss Azalea's voice makes you feel like you need a shower. I got to this line. Line 2. I get that her goal is to sound "sleazy/sexy," but you can be sexy without sounding like a particularly cheap hooker. This method of...singing?...rapping?...whatever it is is irrelevant. This method of making words to music doesn't so much "turn me on" as it makes me feel like I "need to get tested."

And I'm still in the murder business.

I was wrong about this song's lack of depth. This is a clever sendup of the fact that Australia started as a penal colony. I mean, sure, most of the original Australian convicts were criminals who had committed minor crimes that come with minor sentences today, but this is really a clever nod to the rich and tragic history of the Land Down Under.

I'm just kidding. This is meaningless chatter from a 23 year old who has cynically recognized that pointlessly bragging about acts of violence is part of the rap game. Yes, the woman had a song called "Murda Bizness" on her EP, but is that really relevant? Nicki Minaj is more threatening than this Aussie poser, and Nicki Minaj looks like a particularly unrealistic Barbie doll that somehow attained limited sentience.

And yes, I'm aware that what Iggy says in this line is more like "murda bidness," but I respect English too much to write that phrase more than once.

I can hold you down like I'm giving lessons in physics.

Pause everything. Mute everything. Listen closely. You hear that whirring sound off in the distance? That is Sir Isaac Newton spinning in his grave. 

You should want a bad bitch like this.

Yeah. A woman who thinks so little of herself she describes herself as a "bitch" in third person shortly after bragging about her capacity for murder and shortly before bragging about her alcoholism (see below) really strikes me as a catch, boys. Line up in the men's room to buy some off-brand cologne and cheap prophylactics and go nuts!

Drop it low and pick it up just like this.

Worth noting that in this line about dancing (I assume, please don't tell me if I'm wrong) she's not dancing in the video. Maybe the audience is supposed to fill it in. It's like a "Choose Your Own Adventure" of sluttiness!

Cup of Ace, cup of Goose, cup of Cris

Oh, sweet, a list of overpriced alcoholic beverages! Never heard one of those before.
I wonder what this song would sound like on a budget: Cup of Bud, cup of Rose, cup of Spit?

Ya know, with a little lyrical reworking and some steel guitar, I think this crap could be easily converted into a modern country song.*

High heels, something worth half a ticket on my wrist.

Let the record show I have never heard the term "ticket" before. Apparently it's slang for a million dollars. So her bracelet is worth half a mil? Well, I'm sure the African children who dug up the conflict diamonds in your wristpiece are comforted by the fact that it merits a casual one-line mention.

It's at this point that the dumber and more troglodytic among you are thinking "Andrew, she's creating a character! It's braggadocio fiction, and that's what modern urban music is all about!" OK, you're not thinking that exactly, but you get the drift. Well, here's my reply:

Screw you. Even if a woman who willingly calls herself "Iggy" in public is self-aware enough to create a song based solely on the irony of mocking meaningless consumerism, her audience is not intelligent enough to pick up on it. Think about the number of people who have Lorde's "Royals" sandwiched between repetitive tributes to conspicuous consumption and loose sex. Popular songs and irony do not go hand in hand.

Takin' all the liquor straight, never chase that.

You ever hear about someone who has burned himself/herself out on the joys of life, so they pursue ever more dangerous and twisted paths to feel something again, lest their life become an endless chain of dull nothingness? Well this line is what the middle stages of that decline looks like. Ms. Azalea's next tune will be about hunting homeless people on the streets of Sydney.

Rooftop like we bringin' 88 back.

This is appropriate. Musically, the 80s sucked. It was mostly electronic crap foisted by trashy plastic singers with all the depth of a puddle. This song is an excellent example of all of those things.

Bring the hooks in, where the bass at?

Never end a sentence in a preposition. Further, never include a sentence intended for your producer in your finished song. I can't keep giving these tips for free.

Champagne spilling, you should taste that.

Did you know that genuine Champagne must be produced in the Champagne region of France, pursuant all the way back to the WWI-ending Treaty of Versailles? Did you know that American "champagnes" circumvent this through the loophole that the US Senate never ratified the Treaty of Versailles and is not beholden to its restrictions?

Sorry, I added that because this line is so blandly generic that I figured you could use a history lesson. Also, I occasionally enjoy using my degree for something other than boring high schoolers. Hey, look! The "featured" "artist" takes the stage! Go Charli, go!

I'm so fancy, you already know.

Actually, what I already know is that you're one of the 3 awful people responsible for Icona Pop's "I Love It," and it will take a whole lot more than fanciness to get me to forgive you for that. Your affiliation with this song is not helping.

I'm in the fast lane, from LA to Tokyo.

Whadda ya know? They have maps in England (Charli's home) with major cities on them. Wonders never cease.

I'm so fancy, can't you taste this gold?

That's...not how gold works, right? Because if it is, then my wife is really using her jewelry wrong.

Remember my name, 'bout to blow.

Oh, Charli, you're not about to blow. According to my video timer, you and your compatriot have been blowing for a solid minute by this point. Don't flatter yourself into thinking that the blowing is about to start. Oh, good. Iggy's back for more "rap." I put that in quotes because it's not so much rapping as it is testing my will to live.
  
I said, "Baby, I do this. I thought that you knew this."

A moment. Everyone who's not Iggy Azalea, please skip the next section and go to the next skewering of the song. I need a moment with just me and Iggy.

Iggy, thanks for reading the blog. Look, I don't know how to tell you this, but we Americans don't know who you are. I'm sure a few of us do, but a few of us know who Guster is, so you're honestly on that level right now. You're not well known enough to make big brags or self-references yet. Sure, your fans will get it, but since this is your first charting single here in the States, most of us will just assume that you're really egotistical.Well, that's all I got. Oh, one more thing! Australia seems nice. Is it true your toilets flush the other way? TTYL!

Can't stand no haters and honest the truth is.

Oh, the truth? Hey, maybe I misjudged you, Azalea! After a minute of generic lies hurled at us in your disgusting voice, it seems you're ready to come clean. Maybe you'll start talking like Yvonne Strahovski, yeah?

And my flow retarded, each beat dear departed.

...............bwuh?

OK, couple things:

1. Is this English?
2. What happened to the truth?

It killed itself, didn't it? You name dropped "the truth" in this song and it was so ashamed to be associated with this that it killed itself.

Way to go. You have the abstract concept of factual purity's blood on your hands. I hope you're happy, you Koala-loving hussy. Have I mentioned she's Australian? She's Australian.

Also, calling your rap skills "retarded" is a severe insult to the mentally handicapped. At least those folks can contribute something to society. You can too, Iggy. Step 1: Quit music entirely. Step 2: Literally anything else that doesn't involve a meth addiction.

Swagger on stupid

"Stupid." Let's just run with that word.

I can't shop in no department.

Ah, yes. Too classy to shop at department stores. Yeah, this is what everyone should want in a woman--someone who's "too good" to go to JC Penny or Belk. Because when I fell for my wife, my primary concern was where she shopped. I demanded that she refuse to go to reasonably priced stores. I like selling my major organs to pay for clothing!

"But Iggy pays for her own stuff!" the imbeciles intone. Yeah, if her songs all sound like this she'll be working in a department store by the decade's end. Well, that's assuming there's justice in our world...

I get my money on time, if they not money decline.

Ignore the terrible sentence structure, focus on the boast. Do you get your own money? Or are you fulfilling the prophecy of Kanye West 9 years too late?

See, the problem with this line is that many many men consider women to be nothing more than curvaceous leeches who are only interested in legal tender. And throwing out a line saying you get money and that you'll "decline" folks who aren't money, well that's just pandering to every negative thought that men have about your gender. So you're not only setting music back a solid 30 years, you're setting women's rights back a good 40-50. Nice work.

I swear I meant that there so much I gave that line a rewind
So get my money on time, if they not money decline.

Yeah, that happened. Apparently writing three and a half minutes of words was just too much for 6 people to manage, so they straight up repeated a line with no depth word for word while ACKNOWLEDGING THAT THEY WERE DOING THAT. Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and the Grateful Dead had no songs that performed better than this one in the US. I want that to sink in. If it hasn't sunk in, re-read this paragraph until it does. Then move on.

I just can't worry 'bout no haters, gotta stay on my grind.

Sweet, a line about ignoring people like me. Because apparently having taste and demanding songs say something different than the songs of every other rapper makes me a "hater." Since Iggy clearly isn't going to read my blog, I'll just make a video commentary here:

Much of the second verse in the video takes place on a tennis court. As a tennis coach and a USTA member, I will be filing a complaint with our governing body. Because the sport deserves better than this.

Now tell me who that? Who that? That do that? Do that?

Awesome. A line with no connection to the others. To her credit, today I asked my first period if they knew who Iggy Azalea was. Most of them said "Who's that?" Yeah, my high schoolers have better grammar than you, Iggy. Just gonna leave that where it lies.

I put that paper over all, I thought you knew that, knew that.

We did. You said it about 5 and 3 lines ago. We get it, you like money. Please repeat it. Maybe it will suck less if you actually hit some notes or rap with any skill or do anything to actually vindicate your existence.

I be that I-G-G-Y, put my name in bold.

You can spell your name. Gold star, you have graduated first grade.

I been working, I'm up in here with some change to throw.

Yay! More money references! You six writers are so clever and cool. And you're not at all an argument on the hollowness and utter pointlessness of late-stage capitalism, which places monetary gain over anything resembling the advancement of humanity. Nope! You're cool! Go songwriters!

At this point, Charli XCX tells us how fancy she is. Again. It isn't any better than it was a few lines ago, but now it comes with the Tay Rail Bridge equivalent of song bridges. Behold!

Trash the hotel,

Nice. No one in music has ever bragged about hotel crashing. You are original and unique and special and talented.

Let's get drunk off the minibar.

Yeah, spend $70 on airplane bottles of liquor. Or, y'know, just go to a local ABC store. Save about $40 and maybe add a line in your song that at least pretends to have depth.

Make the phone call.

To whom?! What is the context of this? COULD YOU PLEASE AT LEAST PRETEND TO NOT SUCK AS A MUSICIAN AND A HUMAN BEING?!

Feels so good getting what I want.

Emotional maturity of a 4 year old--attained.

Yeah, keep on turning it up.
Chandelier swinging, we don't give a f***

So...keep drinking. And swing on a chandelier. Do people fantasize about this? And do those people know how to spell chandelier without a spell check? If the answer to the first question is yes, then the answer to the second question is no.

Film star, yeah I'm deluxe.
Classic, expensive, you don't get to touch.

Iggy implies I get to touch her if I make enough. Birds of a feather flock together. Charli, you ain't exactly Audrey Hepburn. No one is Audrey Hepburn. How dare you put yourself in a sentence with Audrey Hepburn?!

Iggy comes back to beat the pile of mashed meat that long ago resembled a dead horse. Because this song didn't already suck enough.

Still stuntin' how you love that?

I don't. Thanks for asking.

Got the whole world asking how I does that.

No, you have a group of people whose musical taste buds have atrophied into flavorless gelatinous cubes wondering how you "does that." These people also base their musical choices on their eyes, not their ears, and they have nothing resembling a grasp of English.

But, sure, pretend that you believe people wonder how your formulaic crap gains success. It gains success because it takes no risks in terms of lyrics or production. It gains success because all it takes in modern popular hip-hop/rap is 3 minutes of bragging about materialism. It gains success because the music buying public has stopped demanding more of those who provide their entertainment. Sorry to give away your secrets, woman who couldn't even be bothered to come up with a unique freaking name.

Hot girl, hands off don't touch that,
Look at it bet you wishing you could clutch that

OK, so...you're hot but you're an "it." Awesome. Combining egotism while somehow still offering yourself as a glorified chunk of burger. Great combo! Way to simultaneously turn men off with your high and mighty attitude while also implying that you're an object that can be won with sufficient funds.

It's just the way you like it, huh?
You're so good, he just wishing he could bite it, huh?

Sweet. My meat metaphor from the previous paragraph stays perfectly valid! Unless he's a vampire wishing he could "bite it", which ends one of two ways: either by 1: killing Iggy Azalea (the ideal option) or 2: making her an immortal vampire, who will torment me until the end of my existence. It's possible this song has driven me insane.

Never turn down money.

This woman is literally a whore. Not in the "a woman who likes sex" way, but in the "a woman who repays money with sex" way. She literally is a person who you don't date, she is a woman you afford. (Special thanks to the Comics Curmudgeon for most of that joke).

Slaying these hoes, gold trigger on the gun like.

Yeah, Iggs. You have the right to call another woman a prostitute after 3 minutes of shallow bragging about the crap you have and your love of money. Keep telling yourself that.

Charli sings again and Iggy proves that she can spell her 4 letter stage name a few dozen times to wind out the last 30 seconds of the song. I mean, she needs a truckload of help from the producers to create that last 30 seconds, but at least the damn song is over.

Recommended Alternative Listening: Tell you what, this song was so bad that I can't recommend many alternatives. If you liked this song, listen to the previously mentioned Royals and take a long look at your life, because you're lacking some depth. Good music doesn't have to be shallow. If you disagree and you legitimately enjoyed this song, I have another recommendation for you. It has as much musical merit. Here's another.


*--If this actually happens, I will throw myself from my second-story classroom. It won't kill me, but it will give me a fitting amount of pain for putting this idea in some record executive's head.

Andrew Reviews: Timber

"Artists": Pitbull, featuring Kesha
Chart Position at Time of Writing: 3 (Peak Position: #1, for 3 weeks)
Link to the waste of celluloid: You shouldn't click this.
Somewhat less idiotic lyric video: Honestly, you shouldn't click this, either.

Review: Sorry for the delay folks. What with tennis, work, and being abducted and brainwashed enlightened by the glorious leadership of North Korea I haven't had time to write about your filthy, decadent Western Popular music. But fret not! Some down time means that we'll have a few reviews to post on here, starting with our first song featuring not one, but two repeat targets!

Plenty of things to say about this one, so let's end this intro and get to the disgusting entertainment of the bourgeois capitalist pigs:

[Kesha:] It's going down,
I'm yelling timber.

Alright, stop. A timber call is a reference to something falling that could possibly kill you. Lumberjacks use it when chopping down trees, the better to not accidentally snuff their coworkers with 6 tons of future table. Prior to the release of this song, the only time I'd heard a timber call was in cartoons (go to the 2:50 mark for your payoff.). This song isn't trying to raise a dead phrase, it's trying to resurrect a phrase that hasn't been used by non-lumberjacks since my parents were children. All this line means is that, when I show my students a Looney Tunes cartoon with a character shouting "Timber!" at least one will now assume that the line was stolen from this song. In a cartoon made 50 years before the song's release. I did not say all my students were smart.

Unrelated, but this song also features a harmonica throughout. I have never been more ashamed to play the harmonica...

You better move,
you better dance

Kesha giving me orders to dance. I have had that very nightmare.

Let's make a night,
you won't remember

Oh, look, Kesha promoting a lifestyle of meaningless hedonism. What a radical change of pace.

(Moment of seriousness:) She is currently in rehab for an eating disorder. I wish her a speedy recovery and I hope she's able to straighten her life out for 2 reasons. 1, most importantly, Kesha's a human being who deserves compassion and a shot at living a long and healthy life, getting her off a path that has claimed far too many of her musical peers. 2, more selfishly for me, if she straightens out she might stop making such horrible songs. Back to attempted humor!

I'll be the one,
You won't forget.

No offense, lass, but I think that a one night stand from an evening that the guy can't fully recall probably ends with you in a vague memory as "that girl who kept me from drowning in the toilet."

This line is followed by a lot of vaguely on-key "ooh"-ing. Because in a 3 minute, 33 second song, you have time to waste 15 seconds 4 times over the course of the song. And then, the rapping starts.

[Pitbull:] The bigger they are, the harder they fall
These big-iddy boys are dig-iddy dogs

OK, first off, what? I assumed "It's going down" was a reference to a party "going down." But now it's a reference to big guys falling? That...doesn't appear anywhere else in the song? And that segues extremely poorly into the next line?

Also, for a dude named Pitbull to derisively refer to his rivals as "dogs" sort of defeats THE WHOLE BLOODY POINT OF HIS FREAKING NICKNAME, doesn't it?!

I have 'em like Miley Cyrus, clothes off

I'll be charitable to Mr. Bull and his team of writers (more on that in about 5 lines of the song), and assume that we're now talking about women and not the "big-iddy boys" referenced in the previous line. Even being charitable, I'm pretty sure that there are almost no women who would enjoy being compared to Miley Cyrus right now.

Miss Cyrus is either going through a personal meltdown or (and this is far more likely:) is the product of a carefully calculated publicity stunt to capitalize on meaningless "controversy." Either way, this line isn't gonna generate much sympathy amongst the crowd with two X chromosomes. The only people I know who admire Miss Cyrus or find her attractive are high schoolers, and that's a subtext that I really don't want to put on this already awful song.

Twerking in their bras and thongs, timber

Ah. A reference to the thing that happened at the VMAs as a part of a flagrantly manufactured "controversy" (which was reaching a fever pitch around the time this song was written, I assume). A thing so repulsively shallow and meaningless that I won't provide links to the incident. In fact, what incident am I talking about? Incident? Huh? Doesn't ring a bell. This line is just silly.

Adding "timber" to the end just makes it sillier, unless Pitbull just felled an oak that was wearing lingere.

Face down, booty up, timber.

Pitbull has never actually seen a tree.

That's the way we like to *what*, timber.

One of the things that really irks me about rap music is the propensity amongst performers to reuse lines from older, more well-known songs. In this case, Mr. Bull is using these two lines to reference a song by 2 Live Crew called "Face Down, A** Up," which was released in 1990. You'll never guess what word Pitbull replaced with "what" in his version of this line...

I'm slicker than an oil spill.

Then don't swim in the Gulf of Mexico.

She said she won't, but I bet she will, timber.

Borrowing a line from Lil' Wayne and Drake?* I can't say anything here that will make the previous sentence funnier or sadder than it already is.

Now, dear readers, having almost reached the 1 minute mark of this...thing, I'm going to ask you to play a game with me. I want you to help me decide which of this song's writers crafted the following lines. If you don't know the writers' names, I'll give them to you in this section.:

Swing your partner round and round,
Was it Kesha Sebert?
End of the night,
Or Armando Perez?
It's going down.
Could have been Lukasz Gottwald.
One more shot,
Perhaps Priscilla Hamilton?
Another round,
Maybe Mr. Jamie Sanderson?
End of the night,
Though this line hints of Henry Walter.
it's going down.
Could be Kesha's mom, Rosemary Sebert.
Swing your partner round and round,
I have my doubts about Lee Oskar.
End of the night,
And this Greg Errico character is unlikely, too.
It's going down
And this Keri Oskar guy doesn't even have a wiki page for me to link to.
One more shot, another round
Nor does Breyan Stanley Isaac...

So, does everyone see my point in that little list? This song has a blog-record breaking 11 writers! Now, the Oskars and Greg Errico can be forgiven, as they merely provided the sample music for this garbage. (Lee Oskar is the actually-really-talented former harmonica player for the band War.) Everyone else is culpable, though, meaning that the worst lumberjack metaphor in history took 8 people to write.

I could keep posting to the end of whatever part of the song this is supposed to be (Chorus? Hook? Songwriter suicide inducer?) but you've already read it. This thing is that repetitive.

Kesha comes back in to hack her way through a few already-mocked lines, which gives me the rare opportunity to critique a song's video. Namely my critique is this: what the heck is going on in this thing?!

The video has a "country" theme, with some farm animals and a country bar. I guess it's to continue the trend of hybridizing all genres of music into one gelatinous mass of suck. But the song isn't being played on country radio. And it shouldn't be, this isn't a country song. Heck, the only thing that could make it "country" is the harmonica part, which was written by a guy from Denmark. So, if the harmonica's what inspired this insipid video, shouldn't they pay tribute to Mr. Oskar with a Viking themed video? Kesha in a horned helmet caterwauling whilst Pitbull raps with a burning peasant village in the background? No? OK.

Back to the song: the chorus is inexplicably repeated twice this time, followed by the last "original" (I am feeling charitable) lyrics in the song:

Look up in the sky,
it's a bird it's a plane.

Let the statement about "originality" in my previous lines be stricken from the record.

Nah, it's just me,
Ain't a damn thing changed.

Pitbull can fly? I mean...that's the logical conclusion here. That, or some devoted fans can recognize his private plane from the ground, but because they're Pitbull fans they're stupid and don't realize that they've already said "it's a plane," which is a correct statement.

Live in hotels,
swing on planes.

Well, I guess that answers that question. Maybe. I'll give him the "hotel" line, provided that he (and you, dear reader) promises to never explain what the line "swing on planes" means.

Blessed to say,
Money ain't a thing.

Oh, a rapper bragging about his money? Will wonders never cease?

Club jumping like LeBron,
Voli

Hey, did you know that Pitbull is from Miami, where LeBron James plays? Did you know he's the spokesperson for Voli Vodka, something I had never heard of until I wrote this stupid post? Well, now you know both of those things. All because they were unnecessarily dropped in as a bit of self-promotion 2 minutes into a song that is utterly destroying my will to keep doing this. There is graffiti in high school bathrooms that is deeper than this song. And that graffiti usually only took one lazy student skipping class to write it--this song took 8 of those same people, but grown up!

Order me another round,
homie.

Is this Pitbull asking his friend to do the ordering? That seems uncharacteristic of a rapper, especially 2 lines after bragging about his monetary wealth. It's far more logical to conclude that the line is being directed to a bartender. I assume, then, since we have seen no other shift in who's being addressed, that this whole song is being sung/rapped at a very confused mixologist. I think it's funnier to imagine just Kesha and Pitbull at the bar, performing for just the one guy, who's mad because he won't be getting a good tip with such a small crowd.

We about to clown.

Clowns?! I hate clowns. Why would Pitbull want to do this? I mean, with the makeup and the hair in this video, Kesha already looks like a clown, so seeing Pitbull in the cake makeup and a red nose would send this song into full on horror mode.

No, I don't care if that's not what he meant.

Why?

Yes, please tell me why you would make me think of clowns.

Cause it's about to go down.

So...you're about to "clown" because "it's about to go down?" It took 8 people to write this? To make a nonsensical statement and follow it with another, equally meaningless line.

And, 2 minutes into the 3 minute, 33 second long song, we're done with lyrics. Pitbull's Hook/Suicide Inducer loops again, as does Kesha's chorus, but nothing new is said or done for the last 1/3 of the song. But there are a few shots of a pig swimming in the last minute of the video. You may insert your own joke in the comments.

Recommended Alternative Listening: This is a tough one for me. I don't think you should listen to Kesha or Pitbull. Maybe try the original harmonica part played at its original speed? Or, you could look up one of the other songs featuring a female singer and a male rapper. There's only been a few billion of those made in the past few years. If you're a die-hard Pitbull or Kesha fan, you should sit down and try to add some meaning to your life. Allow Monty Python to help.


*--1:44 if you'd like to limit your exposure to profanity, idiocy, and large amounts of undeserved egotism.