Ah, the guilty pleasure. The intrinsic shame felt over liking something you aren’t supposed to. Sometimes the reason you aren’t supposed to like something is moderately valid. Something like a health issue or social moray, which eating glass or wearing diapers in public could be classified as. Or perhaps the guilt is felt after constructing a façade-personality that would outwardly seem repulsed by an action you inwardly love, like a self-proclaimed vegan going rawdog on some Rally’s. Then you’re just a liar and you deserve that guilt, but those Loaded Fries are just too good, aren’t they?
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| SWAGONMAX |
I have long been a proponent of not feeling bad about something I like. If you need proof, refer to my very vocal, public and constant declarations of love for the Best Movie of All-Time: Titanic (REALTALK). I also feel that with my personal preferences being so arbitrary that friends in college made a party game out of guessing if I liked or hated random topics, I can get away liking pretty much whatever I want, without anyone raising an eyebrow from shock or surprise.
Well, almost anything. Music seems to be the great leveler in terms of guilty pleasures. Preferences and favorites naturally evolve as you go through life listening to music, and dislikes form as a counter balance. Even the people who claim they like “everything” dislike a couple songs and artists. (Probably the best ones, because if you like “everything” you don’t actually like anything.) On a basic level, it’s from these preferences that a solid chunk of guilty pleasures are formed.
The biggest factor in the guilty pleasure song comes from the people who make it their business to be VERY into their music. There is a distinction, though fuzzy and subjective, between good music and bad music. The people who take staying on the correct side of this line rather seriously often find themselves in an existential quandary: “God, this song is mindless, manufactured, noise-trash. But….I… can’t… stop… listening.”
I can’t state a definition of what “good” or “bad” music is but I can pull a Supreme Court and say, “I know it when I hear it.” These loose personal guidelines form my preferred musical stylings and as a result I’ve acquired some pretty eclectic tastes over the years.
Now that I sound all assy and arrogant, I want to specify that I don’t like all good music, or hate all bad music. These are not mutually exclusive things. It's similar to when somebody is wagging a finger at you, saying “You know better than that!” And you know you do. But you can’t help yourself.
So this is where I find myself now, making the list of the five songs that for one reason or another I shouldn’t like. The five songs I should know better than to like. The five songs people would be totally shocked to find out I like. But in keeping with my open-door policy, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to like them free and clear after posting this. Street-cred, I’ll miss you.
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| #BullgodStatus |
If bad music were a neighborhood, “I Am The Bullgod” would have bought all five lots at the end of the cul-de-sac, built a mansion with 10 bedrooms, eight baths and two swimming pools and then ignored the grass and strewn car parts across yard while shingles fell off the roof and small mammals moved in under the front porch.
The opening riff is the “Amazing Grace” of Buttrock Gospel and the thinly veiled and poorly concocted references to how high and drunk he can get are so immature a poop joke would frown. Above all, no mention is ever made of what actually BEING a Bullgod means. The world may never know.
Kid Rock displays some of his best idiocy imagery on this track, with non sequiturs around every corner. You’re the Pot God? Really? I don’t think a 6th grader would even be impressed by that statement. What would a Pot God even wear, a crown of stems? (Zing!)
Unfortunately, this song is so horrible, it has gone from novelty to hilarity to necessity. So many jokes and sarcastic statements have been derived from this song over the years, it morphed into something I never would have imagined - a song I kinda, maybe, sorta like. There’s no real explanation for it, as it doesn’t have a tune, the aforementioned lyrical content isn’t lyrical nor content and it reminds me far too much of the worst parts of living in Northern Michigan; the people who have never been south of the 45th parallel but have Confederate flags and “Redneck” on their mud flaps. All that, and it’s in my iTunes Top 25 most played. Oh well.
I am going to preface this entry by mentioning that Belinda Carlisle was the lead singer of the Go-Gos. Yes, THOSE Go-Gos.
The biggest issue with this song is the absolute absurdity of the lyrics. Generalized statements abound, as do unanswered questions. For example, the song opens with the line “Ooh baby/ do you know what that’s worth?” What is what worth? You never say, Belinda! I kind of feel you couldn’t find something to rhyme with Earth. That’s what happened, isn’t it Belinda? You can tell me, it was a long time ago. Girth rhymes too, by the way.
The equally undesirable alternative to the rhetorical verses are the sickeningly sweet lines that you wouldn’t even find in a Hallmark card: “In this world we’re just beginning/to understand the miracle of living”…
I’m not even going to try to think up something to say about that.
All that and I’ll still throw my arms in the air, Short Street style, if this song comes on at the bar or a party. I’ve given deep thought as to why I like this song, because there really is no redeeming value to this song, and I narrowed it down to two things. I like high notes a lot for some reason, and this song has synths and chimes galore. Sign me up. The other is that this is one of those songs from the 80s that feels like one large build up, which I am also a sucker for. When they drop the beat and come back with the final crescendo, it’s over. OVER. *Insert Marquise Gray throat slashing gesture.*
I’m going to flip this entry and state the reasons I love this song, because the reasons it’s lame are pretty obvious. If you listen closely, it’s the story of a guy settling on a girl he didn’t really like because he realized he couldn’t do any better. How could you not love a song about giving up? Seriously, check out these lyrics:
“She rolls the window down/And she talks over the sound/Of the cars that pass us by” – This girl is so loud and obnoxious, she can’t even be drowned out by freeway traffic. Keeper.
“And I don’t know why/But she’s changed my mind” – You had no desire to be with this girl for a number of reasons. But suddenly your mind changes. Is it the constant rejections at the bar? The dates that stand you up? Or do you suddenly realize that she’s beautiful, articulate, and caring after knowing her for five years? Uh, it’s the first two, Melvin.
“She was the one to hold me/The night, the sky fell down” – FRIEND ZONE. Why did the sky fall down? Because her prettier roommate dumped you, loser.
“And what was I thinking when the world didn’t end/Why didn’t I know what I know now?” – You mean knowing that her roommate was way our of your league and that maybe you shouldn’t have spent every night playing WoW while she went out and met guys with actual social skills?
The rest of this song basically involves this weird guy and uggo-frumpy girl in the car staring at each other not saying anything, probably because they’re equally worried what their friends will say if they vocalize their creepy adoration for each other. Then he flies off the handle and thinks he wants to get married and the modern-day version of the ending of “Layla” rolls in. It’s simply amazing.
This song is different from all the others on the list, by virtue of it not being a “bad” song that worked its black majik on me. To the contrary; it’s a song with heartfelt, artist-written lyrics performed by a singer with an amazing voice. Adele has pipes, son. Respect that.This song lands this high on the list because of the dichotomy between where this song came from, and where I come from. I can’t think of many things that apply to me LESS than a song written by a 21-year-old U.K. woman about how she broke up with her ex-boyfriend and found out later that he was getting married. I have had literally none of that happen to me, believe it or not.
I have zero ways to identify with this song. I have more in common with D-Roc from the Ying Yang Twins than I do Adele and this song. This girl is seriously so bent out of shape she goes and wins herself some Grammys to wipe her tears, and I spend my time getting angry because I’ve ordered two Eddie Murray shirts and both have had to be returned because of piss-poor screen printing.
In a way, I’m proud of myself for liking this song though. Because it is a good song, and I don’t have to understand it or be the target audience to get that.
You saw this one coming.
I’ve managed to talk about this song in this blog more than anything else somehow, but I can’t help it. Yes, this song is about as mindless as it gets. Yes, this song has the lyrics “Yeeeeahhhh-eeee-yahhhhh- yeahhhhhhh-eeeee-yahhhh.” Yes, this song rhymes “nervous” with “homesick.” Yes, this song is kind of about the USA. Yes, I know the target audience is 14-year-old girls watching the Disney Channel.
But damn it, this may be the catchiest song of all time. And I feel all right when the DJ plays my song too, knamean?
Honorable Mentions:
BBMak – “Back Here”
Don Henley – “Boys Of Summer”
Mariah Carey – “Honey”
