The song brought me back to my childhood. I grew up on this shit. Rocked out to it. Wheatus was my adolescent Motzart. Mistakenly I believed the lead singer was a woman and subsequently my world view was severely shaken roughly ten minutes ago.
But why this song? What drew me in?
Flash forward twelve years. Have you listened to today's pop music? I mean really listened? Maybe I'm the only one out there that does this, but I pay a lot of attention to the lyrics. Too much attention. So forgive me for sounding like an old man shaking his fist when I say, today's pop music is complete crap.
You needn't look far. Sample some of Rihanna's S&M...
The takeaways from Rihanna's dirty brainchild is that she's good at being bad, chains and whips excite her, and she has very smelly sex. While I can poke fun at the content, I cannot deny the song's popularity.
Pop music follows a recipe. The initial hook is the beat. It's catchy, not complicated. It's memorable, but not a musical masterpiece. The syncopation will get stuck in your head and rot your brain. It's this beat that sets the tone for the song.
Now that you've been lured by rhythm addiction, it's time to finish you off with some trite lyrics. Writers craft lines that are specific enough to tell a story and paint a picture in the listener's mind hole, yet at the same time, general enough that any asswad can put themselves in the shoes of the singer. The assemblage is no different than a horoscope. This technique allows the listener to slip into the song and identify with the singer. Example: "Rihanna has smelly sex just like me! I totally get where she's coming from."
The recipe is a winning combination. The success is undeniable. The composers give the people what they want: a catchy tune with base lyrics relatable to all who listen. And regardless of my criticism, I'm a part of it. Far too much of my brain is filled with the useless garbage lyrics of the popular music genre.
The fact that I know all the words to Live Your Life: somewhat ridiculous. Confidence in lyrical masterization of JT's What Goes Around: embarrassing. The ability to sing along to Bieber's Boyfriend: downright shameful.
Admission is the first step to recovery. I'm not about to start a twelve-step program, but I won't give up my pop hip hop either. I just want to encourage everyone listening to the Z100s out there to open their ears, pay attention, and be critical.
The songs are garbage. Enjoy responsibly.
xoxo,
ShavedGolf
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