"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.
