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A number one song can be a perfect storm of lyrical and musical genius coming together to create a uniquely special moment of excellence. And yet, often times, the individual elements that make up a top hit are not quite the sum of their parts.


Here at The Breakdown testing site, words are removed and isolated from the songs they've been assigned to. This allotment of dialogue is then subjugated to a rigorous series of independent tests in order to determine just how great/awful, creative/inane, and remarkable/pointless it truly is.


Do the lyrics of a number one tune stand, or fall, on their own?


Let's find out.


Monday, March 25, 2019

R Kelly "Bump N' Grind"

*****Number One, April, 1994*****


Oh great, another one of these guys.

Sigh. 

You know, I was going to focus this post on the concept of whether or not a person can or should separate art from the artist.  We've been inundated with such a plethora of dudes who have balanced respectful careers with utterly abhorrent personal behavior that it's become a normal and legit consideration regarding entertainment consumption.  Movies, television, music, pretty much all forms of media have these awful humans.  I was going to list out a few of the many to validate the fact, but really that's not necessary.  There are so many, and we already know the names, so why re-type them?

And, obviously, the elite field of number one artists are no sanctuary from this.  I mean, Michael Jackson has a whole documentary about his sordid life.  And Kenny G?  Man, don't even try to find out how he kept his hair so curly.  Don't do it!  You cannot unsee what I've seen.

Today's artist?  Well, yeah, if you're reading this, you probably already know.

However, it's been a long, tiring week.  And, with the sun shining today, I don't feel like dwelling in serious-land assessing the value of morally-bereft talent.  So, instead, I'm going in a different direction.  A VERY different direction.

Yes, Bart, we're getting to that.

If you haven't noticed previously, I've got a bit of an affinity for The Simpsons.  Yes, it exited must-watch status a long while ago.  Like, near the turn of the century. 

Wow, roll that phrase over in your head.  The turn of the century.  Man, we're old!

Anyway, I still catch reruns when the mood strikes, as the earlier episodes are always good for a few laughs.  That's the case even though I've probably got the first decade or so of the show permanently burned into my memory-keeping thing.  Valuable use of brain space?  No, of course not.  Although, well, wait, kinda, actually...a bit  A little bit! 

See, whenever I'm in need of just the right image for one of these meandering blog-oids, I pop over to the magical resource known as the Frinkiac.  There, I simply tap in a few words pertaining to some obscure three seconds of cartoony nonsense I remember for no good reason, and instantly I'm staring at the pic I need.  It's a remarkable device and highly entertaining.  And, today, I'm putting it to work.

Not for its pictures, however, but for its dialogue.

Oh yeah, we're going back to translation town.  And this time, the place is animated.

When you read a post about R Kelly, expect pics of Bob Hoskins. So it goes.

Way back in November, I ran Ricky Martin's finest through ten languages' worth of Google Translate and came out with something odd and beautiful on the other side.  Then, a few months later, I took Vanilla Ice's contribution to the climate change discussion into the ridiculous woodshed, pushing his nonsensical gibberish into the mouths of Yoda, Shakespeare, and others.  That was...something else.  Now, it's R Kelly's turn.  Let's take his demented warbling somewhere new. 

I've got the chorus for Bump N' Grind up on one tab, and the Frinkiac on another.  The jist is, I will paste each line into the Simpsony search box.  In doing so, it will populate a bunch of images based on an interpretation of the words it recognizes.  I will then click on the initial image that appears, take the first line of text that results, and use it to replace the original language.

Got it?  Sure you do.  Er, do'h.

To start, let's look at the lame, original version. 

Bump N' Grind
I don't see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind (with a little bump and grind)
I don't see nothing wrong, baby baby, hey
I don't see nothing wrong (I don't see nothing wrong)
With a little bump and grind (with a little bump and grind)
I don't see nothing wrong, hey

I've got a say, BO-RING.  Uninteresting, repetitive, and just plain cloying.  We need to jazz it up a bit to make it truly worth its chart topping rank. 

Now, let's get funky Springfield style!  We'll begin by providing a yellowed, overbitten and enbiggened title.

We Just Came to Get Our Balloon
Well, the parrots can, but anyway
I don't see what's wrong with this one
What? What am I looking at?
Ladies and gentleman, most of you already know
Don't you people see anything wrong with what Malibu Stacy says!

May I say, yoinks.  That is some remarkably cromulent songwriting!  I'm extremely intrigued where the rest of this tune might go.  However, it isn't quite perfect.  I think we need to adjust this just a little.  Perhaps by, oh, about a thousand years.

Time for a second pass at the chorus, courtesy of the magical Morbotron.  Let's Futurama up this number one.  I've got a good feeling about this song, which is now called...

Hey Fry...Leela, No Means No
Aw, you're a true friend
What'll I do when I retire?
Hey, I got a busted ass here!
Here's your homework, you lucky knob
Hey, I don't see you planning for your old age.

I mean, busted ass!  Yeah, nailed it.  But, the retire/old age thing isn't quite on point.  As much as I'd like to hear someone sing the phrase "lucky knob" over and over, I feel like we need to try again.  I hate to say it, but we're going to need to get schwifty.

Ok, I didn't hate to say it.  At all.  Rick, Morty, please do your worst; 

It's a Waste of Time...
Nothing wrong with a little horseplay every now and then, little fella
Leave you alone?  During a purge?
Gonorrhea can't see us if we don't move
With a patchy beard and the scent of cheap champagne
The path to salvation is being held prisoner

I swear on whatever book/deity/burrito that you want me to swear on, I did not, DID NOT, fiddle with the engine to get that last line.  I SWEAR!  It came up on its own.  Man.

Proof.  Perfect proof.

FINAL THOUGHTS
I don't think I can say it any better than above.  And, given the originator of the material, I don't feel like I should even bother.  Now go watch some cartoons!  It's the only way to bring integrity to anything.

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