Pages

Wednesday 9 January 2013

Archive: SPEW!

This is an archive piece written and posted on LiveJournal in 2006, albeit slightly edited and re-published in 2013: 


SPEW!!!

Based on a short column in one of the those teeny-bopper pop magazines from the late 1980s (Smash Hits it was, I think) these are some song lyrics that make me spew:

The Cure:
“Let me take your hand I’m shaking like milk” ("Let's Go To Bed")

Eskimo Joe:
“Black fingernails, red wine…I’m gonna make you…all mine” ("Black Fingernails, Red Wine")

Oasis:
“I know a girl called Elsa, she’s into Alka Seltzer…” ("Supersonic")

Bill Withers:
“I know I know...” times 27 ("Ain't No Sunshine")

Nickleback:
“I like your pants around your feet
And I like the dirt that's on your knees...” ("Figured You Out")

Lee Harding, aka The Punk that should not be:
"She's a Wasabi, she looks like a Barbie, Just too hot for me. She's like a tsunami, could wipe out an army..." ("Wasabi")

Eiffel 65:
“I’m Blue ba da bee ba dee dah ba dah ba dee dah de dah ba dah dee ba dee dah” ("Blue")

Shannon Noll:
“I’ve got a car, I’ve got a big black shiny car, maybe tonight we can go for a ride” ("Drive", and this one is not really Shannon's fault: Bryan Adams wrote this one, proving that he is well and truly past it)

Avril Lavigne:
“He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious...” ("Skater Boy")

Richard Harris:
“…someone left the cake out in the rain. I don’t think I can take it, ‘cos it took so long to bake it, and I’ll never have that recipe agaaaaaaaain, ooooooooohhhhh nooooooooooooooo!” ("MacArthur Park". Again, Richard didn't write this. The writer, Jimmy Webb, is a songwriter of some substantial repute, but in this case he should have known better.)

BBBBLLLLLLEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

EDIT: I notice that most of the songs cited here are ones that have been released mostly within the last 7-8 years, a handful of them notwithstanding. Is this further proof that popular music has gone to crap of late? Discuss...

No comments:

Post a Comment