Technotronic, "Pump Up the Jam." Athletic stomp-dancing woman in green spandex and fanny pack demanding somewhat forcefully that the jam be pumped up, against a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of rotating peace signs, fluorescent-colored angular shapes, and a transcription of green eggs and ham-esque lyrics.
Neil Young, "Heart of Gold." Start crying around :01, when he hits the first of the pulsing E minors. The modulations from minor to major - on "live," "miner," and "expressions" - just slay. If you notice the music thrums along at Em when he sings "keeps me searching for a" for twice as long as any previous appearance of that chord, which gives that line tension and momentum until you get to that cracked wheat voice saying "haaaarrd a go-old," with its harsh American tongue-curling "r" sound on "heart" and dropped consonants on both "heart" and "of." God. I attempted suicide by heartbreak listening to this song on repeat this morning.
Vengaboys, "We Like to Party (The Vengabus)." Because Neil Young and minor chords are damp sweaters on a foggy soul, this was next. There's an official video for this late-1990s dance hit that shows everything you expect it to - a bus - the VENGABUS - and people - young FATLESS people - who like to party - WE LIKE TO PARTY - but I prefer this version instead. If you get past the first thirty seconds (showing the lyrics in rainbow script font), you get to somebody's Microsoft Paint interpretation of this song, showing two black stick figures "partying" against a muted rainbow fade, around multicolored music notes (with the stems attached in all the wrong places). Just imagining some insomniac (screenname PiNKLaDyApPPlesYeY) making this image and posting it to YouTube - because WHY? WE LIKE TO PARTY and SHARE OUR TERRIBLE ART WITH EVERYBODY - fills me with giggles.
Then it was onto two '90s hits where gibberish substitutes for words. First, Spice Girls, "Wannabe." "I really really really wanna zig-a-zig ah." Indeed!
Then Wrekx-n-Effect, "Rump Shaker." "All I wanna do is in my zoom zoom zoom and a-boom boom." Sir, you give voice to my heart.
Finally, Guns 'n' Roses, "Welcome to the Jungle." Best listened to while going through a box of correspondence between malpractice defendant and his clients in the underlying action, singing along to "You know where you are? You're in the jungle, baby, you're gonna DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!"
Today, X. taught me a new technique for disagreeing with an unpredictable irrational person with power over you, that she referred to as "pet, kick." Very simple. Pet until their egos purr. Then kick. No kicking without petting first. Also referred to as "roses before thorns." But "pet, kick" has more poetry. Practice it. Pet. Kick. Pet. Pet. Pet. Kick.
No comments:
Post a Comment