If it isn't apparent yet, per my short exposition at the top of this site (and a few dozen prior blog posts within), I'm definitely a fan of lyrics. Clever, funny, heartfelt, whatever they may be. It is far more likely I'll latch onto an artist if they're able to put together a word salad that grabs my attention, or my brain, or my guts.
The music matters also of course. A lot. Too much, sometimes. I've certainly found myself on the wrong side of fandom regarding certain, immensely respected artists because I simply couldn't get past the sound. And I get it. Yes, Bob Dylan has written some amazing songs. And, yeah, I'm very probably missing out. But, if it's all the same to him (and I think it is), I'd be just fine never hearing him ever again. Nothing personal. He's just not my cup of warmed-over warbling.
However, when it's a good tune and the songwriter nails ya right in the feels, man, there's nothing better. A few years ago, a quirky acoustic melody I'd never heard came across my music feed. Then the opening couplet started:
"Late afternoon, another day is nearly done
A darker grey is breaking through a lighter one"
What is this, I thought, and how can someone put together any better of a phrase to denote a miserable dark day than that? The song, called "I Hate Winnipeg" is one of a plethora that hit me right where I live (or where I wanted to live). I soon found myself grabbing each song from this group, The Weakerthans, and aborbing every bit of Canadian melancholy they produced into my heart and soul. When the lead singer, John K Samson, spun off a couple of solo records, I grabbed them as well. I mean, come on, look at this, from the song "Winter Wheat";
"Woke up in a parking lot, air mattress has gone flat
The sun's selecting targets for the shadows to attack
So make a visor with your hand, squint to where you're from
That lonely line of buildings you can block out with your thumb"
HOW DO YOU EVEN CONCEIVE TO WRITE THAT? It totally breaks my brain. So, so good.
I mean, good to me, obviously. It's my blog after all. However, everybody likes different things. I get that. If you don't like my music, that's fine. It's FINE! I don't mind. REALLY! Different strokes, and all those Gary Coleman-esque vibes. It's just, well...
I mean...
The other side of the spectrum. We all must admit, there are some terribly written songs. And while I want to play the even-keeled adult and say "just because I don't like it doesn't mean it's bad and I didn't start this blog to slag on songs and..."
I...
I just...
Sigh...I guess I have to.
Look at this. Just, look:
"Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya"
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| In a facepalmy world, that might be the facepalmiest thing ever |
Did you read that? DID YOU? Here, again.
"Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya"
That's the chorus! Of a number one song!!!
I mean!!!!!
Sorry for the excalamation points. Hang on.
*Breathe*
Ok.
Grab ya? GRAB YA!?!? You're rhyming "cadabra" with "grab ya"?!?!?!!?! What are you, a toddler?!?!? I...
Apologies again. Truly very sorry here.
Let's try and start this again.
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| The only acceptable form of magic |
The Steve Miller Band. Good? Yes. I think. Well, they've sold a lot of records over the years, and had plenty of hits. You, and I, likely know at least some of them.
- "The Joker" We've all consumed it, probably on that classic rock station playing constantly while we sit and stare at the rusted out candy dispenser in the local Tube N' Lube auto repair shop.
- "Fly Like an Eagle" Yeah, didn't some delivery company take it for their slogan?
- "Jet Airliner" Sounds familiar. About planes? I don't know, it could be a metaphor.
- "Take the Money and Run" Uh, I'm guessing I've heard this tune. Perhaps in a Moonlighting episode? Miami Vice? Er, something where Phil Collins is attempting acting. I'm pretty sure.
However, I get it. I don't dislike this band or style of rock, nor do I think it bad. It's fine, and perfectly acceptable to have playing in the background while you fix a lawnmower or drink single syllable beers like Schlitz and Hamms. But...
But.
This song.
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| The can to the right, and straight on till morning |
Ok. Let's try and go through it. At least the starting bit.
First Stanza:
"I heat up, I can't cool down
You got me spinning, round and round
Round and round and round it goes
Where it stops nobody knows"
Now where's that facepalm gif again?
I like to imagine Steve Miller in his palatial magic-themed mansion (why not) sitting silently at a tophat-shaped desk. A pencil waggles slowly between his thumb and forefinger, and his eyes stare vacantly at the ceiling. He mumbles, to nobody but himself;
"Hmm, can I just say round and round and round it goes in the third verse, especially after I just said round and round in the second? You know what? Yes I can! I can do anything! I'm the space cowboy!!!"
I presume that, based on his recent work, a similar affliction has also taken over Quentin Tarantino.
To be honest, my inclination is to stop the blog post here. Just end it. Round and round and round it goes? Nothing good can occur by regurgitating this repetitive nonsense. However, before finally pulling the ripcord, I need to provide one more section. Towards the end of the song, there's this couplet;
"Just when I think I'm gonna get away
I hear those words that you always say"
She's the one, not the narrator. The woman you're in love with is the repugnant human being speaking this phrase. And, she doesn't just say it, she "always" says it.
Allow me for a moment to put on my bro hat (it has the number sixty-nine on it, the bill is curled almost into a tube, and I'm wearing it backwards, naturally).
"Dude, you need to leave this chick. Nobody should stay with a person who always says abracadabra. Nobody. I don't know you, but you could do better."
<removing hat>
Aside from this song being truly awful, it also represents a terrible relationship. How on earth did this go all the way to number one? Oh, well, there was a video, maybe that holds a clue.
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| Ah, right, that |
To be honest, I don't know how to end this post. One of the worst songs ever to embed itself in my memory banks was chosen this week by the randomizer. What did I do to deserve this? Stuck at home during a pandemic, and the all-knowing luck-god of the internet looked my way and said in its most benevelent voice "Abracadabra, I'm gonna reach out and grab ya!"
Really? I'm gonna reach out and grab ya? That's what ghosts say. Ghosts! And stupid ghosts at that.
Thanks Steve Miller Band for introducing me to a land where dumb spirits like magic.
No wonder I want to move to Canada.
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