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kaigouIn honor of my new layout! ...I bring you actual history.
My mother had this album. I don't recall how I came across it in my parents' meagre album stack, but somewhere I'd heard of the song (or perhaps just the title), and I put it on the turntable and played it. My mom made a show of being disgusted. "I can't believe you're listening to that," she complained. "The lyrics are utter tripe." (Oh, come on, how can you resist a line like you keep same-ing when you oughta be a'changing?) I said, "if it's such a silly song, how come you own the album?" She shot back, "it's not mine." I said, "it's got your name on it." Half a beat, and she recovers with, "your aunt gave it to me." And twenty years later, you've still got it. Sure thing, Mom.
Later that night, as I recall, I went with my boyfriend to see Government Issue; during the show they did their own cover -- granted, hardcore/punk but an entire club of little hardcores cheerfully singing along on the refrain? It was a true moment. I'm telling you, some things are classic, cow-stomach lyrics or not.
Especially as long as there are assholes out there who just don't get it. Sometimes, when the neon sign of "fuck the hell off, you've proven yourself a waste of good air," doesn't get the message through, a good solid boot-stamp to the forehead might work. Then again, that would require effort, and these days I find myself highly reluctant to waste time, or energy, on worthless people. Not counting the energy I spend laughing, of course, but that's always time well spent.
Now, if only I could remember where I put those nifty go-go boots...
My mother had this album. I don't recall how I came across it in my parents' meagre album stack, but somewhere I'd heard of the song (or perhaps just the title), and I put it on the turntable and played it. My mom made a show of being disgusted. "I can't believe you're listening to that," she complained. "The lyrics are utter tripe." (Oh, come on, how can you resist a line like you keep same-ing when you oughta be a'changing?) I said, "if it's such a silly song, how come you own the album?" She shot back, "it's not mine." I said, "it's got your name on it." Half a beat, and she recovers with, "your aunt gave it to me." And twenty years later, you've still got it. Sure thing, Mom.
Later that night, as I recall, I went with my boyfriend to see Government Issue; during the show they did their own cover -- granted, hardcore/punk but an entire club of little hardcores cheerfully singing along on the refrain? It was a true moment. I'm telling you, some things are classic, cow-stomach lyrics or not.
Especially as long as there are assholes out there who just don't get it. Sometimes, when the neon sign of "fuck the hell off, you've proven yourself a waste of good air," doesn't get the message through, a good solid boot-stamp to the forehead might work. Then again, that would require effort, and these days I find myself highly reluctant to waste time, or energy, on worthless people. Not counting the energy I spend laughing, of course, but that's always time well spent.
Now, if only I could remember where I put those nifty go-go boots...
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Date: 1 May 2007 04:39 pm (UTC)If a song just runs through your head, it's a success, regardless of the lyrics. Even if that eventually makes you sick of it.