Since we are about to be “so done” with 2011, it was suggested to me that I compile a “so done with” list from the preceding year. This is a collaborative effort – things some of my favourite people are “so done” with, along with my own thoughts. A huge shout out to the person who inspired this – a brilliant way to end our year. Equal billing. It’s a tie.
So, here we go. Repeat after me, “I’m so done with…”
Let’s start out with a talk of relevancy. They aren’t. They were. And as a “classic” artist, I’m good with them. One is still one of my all-time favourite songs.
But they have gotten a bit self-indulgent in their advanced age. The “concept” album with Lou Reed? Disastrous. Worst thing I’ve heard in a while. And I’m the girl who has had some of the worst bands send me music to listen to over the course of the last year.
CEE LO GREEN/GNARLES BARKLEY
I’m sure I could Wikipedia the difference between the two (note: I did. I get it now. My thoughts still stand). But it was asked of me during one of many music talks, what’s the difference? When Crazy is played on the radio it is introduced as a song by Gnarles Barkley. When Fuck You (I refuse to radio edit here, people. Deal with it.) is introduced it’s by Cee Lo Green. It’s the same fucking person singing!
Not to mention both songs are high on the suckage list and I abhor a song that was written as a “pop” song, then promptly changed and radio edited to be “Forget you” like the world didn’t know it was originally “Fuck You.” Dumbest song of the year award.
An excellent point of heroic proportion. I can’t even take credit. And how I laughed when this was discussed. So, while I’m done with radio edits and irritating pop songs, I’m not done with the ardent mocking of them. Not even close.
RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS
Months ago, we discussed how the use of cowbell salvaged this song. Until it was played 6225 times on the radio and I was subjected to a once-hot Anthony Kiedis sporting a 70s porn-‘stache (and it wasn’t even Movember).
Cowbell can’t save it. The song is annoying. Please see previous comment on relevancy.
I still maintain the PJ20 and Nirvana tributes this year were totally deserved.
However, I still maintain the U2 documentary was useless. A documentary of the anniversary of their 8th studio album. Hello bandwagon, I’d like to jump on you now.
(Okay, it’s a Slayer concert video – I was in a time crunch, it was the first one I found that adequately shows why I hate big venue – mock it up)
Miles from the stage, how can anyone really appreciate the music? Festivals, I get. Blissed out on the grassy knoll. Watching a Jumbo-screened version of a band you didn’t know existed until you heard their song 365 times on the radio and became a “fan” (you were the person who would buy an album for one track, weren’t you? Admit it. It’s okay. I was like that. In 1992.)
I suffer from Small Venue Snobbery. Don’t brag at me because you’re going to the ACC to see Black Keys with thousands of other band wagon jumpers. Let me know when you’ve got something good.
(Harvard Sailing Team’s Hipster Playlist – thanks to Lila for sharing!)
I was a music snob. If it wasn’t indie, I wasn’t listening. I mocked radio. Until I noted (or, rather, I was corrupted to notice) that The Edge (102.1, yes, I have to live stream it at home) had moved back to a more indie-alternative vibe. Hollerado. Hey Rosetta. City and Colour (Dallas Green.. clever point-out Sean B. I’m smarter now. As I was when handed the tidbit about Alexis on Fire and S.B’s tie-in.. love coincidences when they happen coincidentally. That was a great day….). Among so many others. Of course, there are days I seriously question who is programming Edge. Nickelback and Eminem? Metallica? As Sean B. said, “when did (they) become alternative?!”. A fair point. But Edge does more for exposing great local music than it harms with the odd playing of “Home for a Rest” (no, really, I get Canadian Content rules, but, really?!).
So there. I was schooled. Let go of the snobbery. Just a bit. It makes sharing that much more exciting.
DUMBING DOWN THE LYRICS
Some gems from 2011:
“I love you like a love song, baby.” (Selena Gomez, Love you Like a Love Song)
No. Really? You want to love me like an overly insipid and dramatic pop song, overplayed and overdone by a teenager? Gotcha. Sign me up.
“Kicking in the front seat; Sitting in the back seat; Got to make my mind up; Which seat can I take?” (Rebecca Black, Friday)
Dude, I don’t care which seat you take. As long as you sit there with your mouth shut and never sing again. Worst case of viral marketing gone awry I’ve ever seen. When bad music gets good press. (and by good press, I mean lots of it because it was so bad).
“Take me by the tongue; And I’ll show you (uh); Kiss me ’till you’re drunk; And I’ll show you; All the moves like Jagger.. “ (Maroon 5, Moves like Jagger)
What does this even mean? Is it masochistic? You’re bragging that you move like an old, slightly irrelevant rock star past his prime that is still grinding away? I did say sign me up, right? Good.
“You’re so supersonic; Wanna feel your powers; Stun me with your lasers; Your kiss is cosmic; Every move is magic.” (Katy Perry, E.T.)
Katy Perry kissed a girl and is now going on about alien love. I want whatever it is she’s smoking.
“Today I don’t feel like doing anything; I just wanna lay in my bed; Don’t feel like picking up my phone; So leave a message at the tone; ‘Cause today I swear I’m not doing anything.” (The Lazy Song, Bruno Mars)
You know what I don’t feel like doing? Ever hearing this incredibly stupid song ever again. Thank you Bruno Mars. You feel lazy and now I feel dumber. Much appreciated.
“All-all these girls they like my swagger; They callin’ me Mick Jagger; I be rollin; like a Stone; Jet-setter jet-lagger; We ain’t messin with no maggots.” (The Time (Dirty Bit), Black Eyed Peas)
First – what is it with Jagger showing up in songs this year? Secondly, thank you for bastardizing my nostalgia Fergie and crew with your insipid pop crap. Thirdly, I don’t like messin’ with no maggots either. So you got me there.
“That badonkadonk is like a trunk full of bass on an old-school Chevy; Seven tray donky donk; All I need is some vodka and some shonky-tonk; And watch she gon’ get Donkey Kong.” (On the Floor, Jennifer Lopez)
Okay, granted it was Pitbull who mouthed this drivel, not J. Lo. But she allowed it in her song. And I don’t know what shonky-tonk is, but apparently you need it and the vodka in copious amounts to decipher this shit. Goes directly into the “What the fuck” file.
“She gave me, 7 minutes in Heaven, 7 minutes in Heaven; I spent 7 minutes in a motel with her; I’ve been to Heaven but I’m going to; Going to Hell; She’s comin’ with me I can tell.” (School Boy Humor, 7 Minutes in Heaven)
First of all, I had no idea this band existed. Until they sent me their music because of the blog. Secondly, they’re young. I think they need some advice. So here it is, from me to you: Honey, 7 minutes in a motel with her? That’s it? 7 whole minutes? And you think that’s Heaven?! The naivete is adorable, really. There might be some girls who would welcome a 7 minute “fest” with these boys, but I suspect that the Hell descriptor is more accurate for any girl who got her 7 minutes with them. And I suspect that if all they can provide is 7 minutes, they very likely don’t have a clue if she’s coming with them or not. And my guess is on the “not”. Psst. It’s not brag-worthy. Especially in a song. It is like a musical confession of sexual ineptitude disguised as scrub bragging. Which would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.
THE PERSON WHO CHOOSES A SHIT #1 IN A TOP (INSERT NUMBER HERE) LIST.
You know the lists. Hell, I’m a huge fan of them (thank you High Fidelity). The list. The quintessential run-down by a person who just can’t choose one.
I love these lists. But only when the number one choice has me nodding in agreement. Or even grudgingly admitting it’s a decent and worthy choice. But when the choice, as it so often is, is ridiculous, I am SO DONE. It is the epitome of time suckage – you’ve spent hours listening and agreeing and arguing spots with like-minded friends. Only to get to number one and shout out an incredulous “What the fuck?!”
Edge just did this with their Top 102 songs of 2011. Number one? Really?! On January 1st go read the list and see if you don’t have the same kind of “what the fuck” moment. You will. The only amusement I felt at discovering the number one choice tonight (after hours of listening diligently) was a morbid amusement at knowing that there are some people in particular who will find out what the number one song of 2011 is claimed to be and will loathe it. I don’t revel in their loathing, but rather at the picture of the reaction because I know exactly what they’ll say and exactly how they’ll say it. And I know they’re completely right (because we’re super smart). It was a terrible choice.
I’M NOT DONE!
So, that’s it. Things I’m So Done with from 2011. What I’m not So Done with? Sharing music. Enjoying the corruption of a more popular music world. Enjoying the snobbery I still revel in. Enjoying my musical friends and counterparts thoroughly. Thank you all for sharing this year with me, for teaching me and for letting me impart a bit of my own bias and knowledge on you. Thank you for the continued inspiration. It means the world.
To Lila – thank you for being my partner in crime, my musical confidante, my concert friend and the girl who took my Rstar virginity and started my year off with an amazing adventure – one that set the pace for my year. I couldn’t ask for a better friend to have shared my music with this year.
To 2012. Play it well and play it loud. Sing along loudly, share the music and listen when people share back – you never know what you’ll end up discovering. Even about yourself. Happy New Year!
~ Betty Beat. xoxo