In which I take further issue with the subject matter

It's like the entire musical universe is vying to get onto my Worst Mix CD Ever. Witness: Yesterday, when I left work (early! ha ha!) I crossed the street to get to my car, and heard the synthesized frenzy that is "Maniac" blasting from a dark-green pick-up waiting at the stop sign. Nice try, Michael Sembello, but you probably won't make it onto the mix. Yes, your song is frenetic and tuneless, but it isn't quite ungrammatical enough to qualify. (Although, the line "she's dancing like she's never danced before" lends a nice ambiguous air to the narrative, so perhaps there's still a chance.)

On the highway driving home, I heard some more Bob Seger--"Roll Me Away," I believe it's called--coming from a passing car. Bob really wants to be included on the mix. He's practically begging. I discussed the matter with the Keelhauler, who felt that "Mainstreet" should be included, and I'm inclined to agree on the basis of thematic creepiness, rather than grammatical errors. In case you're unfamiliar with this great Seger song, "Mainstreet" is a wistful tale of love and longing, sung from the perspective of someone stalking a stripper.

I've also been thinking about yesterday's candidate, "More Than Words." It occurred to me that it's more complex than just an inarticulate plea for sex, because nowhere in the song does the singer, Gary Cherone, say that he loves the person he's singing to. He is asking her (or him--this is an equal opportunity lyric) to prove his or her love for him via sex. That anyone could consider that concept romantic is testament to the power of Gary's great and terrible rock and roll hair-do, which mesmerizes with its curly mystique. "Shut up and do me, honey!" it calls to you. Don't listen to it! It will only hurt you and then leave you in a pool of Paul Mitchell spray gel!

Miss Jenny Willowfox suggested "I Wanna Sexx U Up," possibly I'm spelling it wrong, by Color Me Badd, an excellent suggestion which I must disallow based on its inclusion in the mix compiled by the radio hosts who gave me this idea in the first place. Miss Jenny gets points for noticing the badness, but I'm rescinding one of the points owing to her defense of the indefensible Wings, specifically the song "Live and Let Die." True, its bombast is perhaps justified because it was written for a James Bond film, but really, the whole Wings oeuvre forms its own gooey little Worst Mix CD ever, and should be left alone to attract bugs in silence.

And so, with all that, today I am adding another song. It pains me, owing to the timeless greatness of "Godzilla," to pick on Blue Oyster Cult (bring your own umlaut), but I think that "Joan Crawford Has Risen From the Grave" is appropriate for the Worst Mix Ever. I don't mind the subject matter, in fact I think I would kind of be interested to see a movie based on the experience, but I protest the following lines:

Policemen are hiding behind the skirts of little girls
Their eyes have turned the color of frozen meat

I have two issues with these lines. One: Whose eyes? And two: What color, exactly, is frozen meat? Kind of a frosty grey? Pink? It's ambiguous, and if there's one thing I require from rock and roll songs concerning reanimated corpses of notoriously unstable celebrities, it is clarity. Clarity, and a lot of high kicking. (Please note that I am not dissing this song out of any residual bitterness left over from my band's instant rejection of it when I proposed it as a cover.)

With that, I am off. Off like a prom dress. Off like a bride's pajamas. Off like frozen meat.



Star of the day. . .Christina Crawford
posted @ 9:54 a.m. on October 19, 2006 before | after

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She lay awake all night,

zzzzzzzzzzz......