“He loves you”
Yeah, that quote isn’t as proselytizing as you might think – it’ll make sense to my “comic people”. See? I haven’t totally given up talking about comics! Anyway, seeing as how only 1 person reading this even reads comics, let’s move on to music:
-So, the New Kids are getting back together. Who the fuck cares? This might come as a surprise to some, seeing as how I’m “Mr. Boyband”, but NKOTB sucked. Sure, I love all of Joey McIntyre’s albums, and I still love some “Give It To You” from Jordan Knight, but vocally the New Kids were a shitty group. Just like the Jonas Brothers. The songs are catchy, but not well-sung. I understand the hype and girls thought they were cute, but I am only looking forward to this if their music has matured. Knight and McIntyre have put out a handful of impressive albums over the last 10 years, and I’d like to see this reunion take that approach. Instead, though, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a bunch of 40 year old men, revisiting their “hits”, telling me I’ve got The Right Stuff. Anyway, we already have an old-ass group for that; they’re called The Backstreet Boys…
-Um, excuse me…Mr. Webbie? So, she “never smells like onion rings”? Oh, that is romantic as Hell. You, sir, are truly a poet! Gotta say, though, I think I’d prefer her smelling like onion rings rather than Parmesan cheese. Been there…
-A lot of shit can go down in a club. You can kiss. You can grind. Hell, you can fuck. But let’s get our semantics straight. You cannot, however, make love in the club. I don’t care if you suggest it through song; it ain’t happening. The chick who would agree to it is just gonna wanna fuck, plus the singing would weird her out. Meanwhile, the chick who’d appreciate the song is just gonna be offended that you want to do such a “special thing” in such a filthy environment. Nice try, though, Usher.
-Damn, Sara, I get it; you’re not gonna write me a love song. I got it during the first verse, but you just never know when to let shit go!
-You ever stopped and stared at someone? It freaks people the fuck out. I wonder how many fights that song has started. It’s the same way “Apologize” was run into the ground against dudes who didn’t even know they’d done anything wrong. Across the country, female Myspace profiles were ablaze with the song, while guys were left wondering, “What did I even do to your crazy ass?”. It was one of those revenge songs just begging for a reason to be put into action. That song was the musical equivalent of the red phone…
-Suffocation’s a big theme in pop right now. Sara Bareilles has her head underwater, as the breathing get’s harder. Jordin Sparks is trying to figure out how to breathe with no air. Is this a cry for help? Should Clive Davis be worried?
-If that song is the 4 minutes that we’ve got to save the world, then we’re already doomed. Plus, the radio version’s only about 3 minutes and 26 seconds, so there’s a trick timer on whatever doomsday device we’re up against. Thanks, Madge…
-I’ve fought loving early 90’s rock with a passion, but I’ve always secretly liked it. I mean, I was there. I like some Better Than Ezra. Was a fool for some Oasis. However, I’m just learning that DC 101 might be the best station on air right now. Oh, remembering the times when dances and book reports were your biggest problems. Listening to Green Day before they became all political. And don’t forget “Black Hole Sun”. That genre revolves around “Black Hole Sun”, and anyone who says otherwise is a damn liar!
-This is a bit older, but Mario Vasquez’s “Gallery” always rubbed me the wrong way. So, you’re basically telling her that her man has got a ton of girl’s who’re just as hot or hotter than she is, so she should leave him and come with you instead? Sure, you’re trying to empower her by telling her that she’s worth more than that, but it’s also a whiny, low blow. “C’mon, he’s got a ton of girls! Let me get a shot!” It’s the song equivalent of some dude’s last call attempt at getting a girl to go home with him. Newsflash: she’s still going home with the dude with the Gallery. But you and Usher can do some shots over your lack of success that night.
Of course you can’t make love in the club! We know that – and it never stops anyone from wanting to. That’s why that song will be popular – impossible fantasies always sell records.
Hell, pop music would have us believe in the weeks following Charlton Heston’s death that a man who literally resembles a damn dirty ape can pull hot women while chilling alongside Diddy, Nelly, and Robin Thicke, a.k.a. the post-9/11 Jon B.
If that’s not fantasy, I’ve some farmland in Basra we’ve got to talk about.