I write. Sometimes I write crap. But fortunately for me, I have a delete button. I know crap when I see it. Ok, maybe not all the time, but then I receive a minimal number on my like counter and it becomes my indicator to distinguish between what is and what is not.  Crap I mean.

I am perplexed how some writers get away with publishing some rather awful atrocities of the written word. Things that would have got them burnt at the stake a few centuries ago.

My hate of 50 Shades of Grey is well known, but this post is specifically relating to another one of my passions. Music. And how some lyrics are just damn awful, but for some reason, when it’s combined with a catchy tune, no one seems to notice.

Take this song from Clay Aiken for example. I don’t have anything against the guy, but the song, Invisible, well, words can speak for itself. Here’s some snippets from the song’s lyrics:

Oh-oh-ohh
What she doin’ tonight?
I wish I could be a fly on your wall.
Are you really alone? Who’s stealing dreams?
Why can’t I breathe you into my life?

And the chorus:

If I was invisible
And I could just watch you in your room
If I was invincible
I’d make you mine tonight

Isn’t that just plain creepy? Don’t agree?  Well picture this:

A few girls sit at a bar, seemingly minding their own business, but really scouting the room for talent.  They spot the group of four guys at the other end of the bar.  They flirt, like most woman do.  The spokesman for the group aka Square-jaw approaches the girls. He makes eye contact with Blond-girl, because they have all the fun.  Chemistry explodes like a science project gone wrong.  Square-jaw offers to buy them drinks. They accept. They urge him to invite all his mates over.   A slam dunk evening.  There’s chilling and talking and even more flirting.  There’s anticipation of some action later.  Then Square-jaw moves in with his final move, turns to Blond-girl and says in a raspy voice:  “I would like to be inivisble and watch you in your room all night, just like a fly on the wall.”

A hard slap echoes above all the voices and music in the bar.  Silence looms as everyone stares unabashed.  Square-jaw sits shocked with his palm clutched to his cheek as Blond-girl frantically tries to get her phone our of her purse to dial 911.  And the poor guy only quoted a song.

To the lyricists…What were you thinking?

Then there’s a song from the 90’ties, Rhytm is a dancer as sung by Snap.  I know it might not have been the best decade for music, but at least we didn’t have big hair, shoulder pads and neon socks. Check this out:

New, touch it, taste it
Free your soul and let it face you
Got the beat what you wanna
If the groove don’t get ya the rifle’s gonna
I’m serious as cancer
When I say “Rhythm is a dancer”

No, I didn’t make this up, and Yes there’s nothing to say about this.  Referencing cancer in a pop song is as bad as referencing Hitler in a Jewish folk song.

To the lyricists…What were you thinking?

In the same decade every man’s naughty schoolgirl fantasy became public viewing, courtesy of a certain perky 16 year-old aka Britney Spears. The song *let’s all sing it together* was Hit me Baby One more time.  I’m convinced that there is absolutely no need for posting the lyrics.

Is it just me or is there something seriously wrong with that hook of the song? I’m still wondering where were all the Woman’s Right Organisations when this song came out?  Was no-one paying attention?  Did Chris Hemsworth attend the conference shirtless?  Was there a chocolate fountain?  An open-buffet? The silence was deafening, even though this sentence seems more fitting on a t-shirt made for Rihanna as a gift to Chris Brown.  Or maybe a quote from that literary masterpiece, as spoken by Anastasia Steele, while bended over with her knickers lying around her ankles and Christian Grey standing behind her, with a whip and his jeans that was hanging from his hips just perfectly.

To the lyricists…What were you thinking?

I have no doubt that there might be a thousand better examples of the point I’m trying to make.  I believe the lyricists responsible for these crimes had to be under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol and the producers were just plain stupid for letting it slip through.  And the artists, well they just do as they’re told by the label, is that not so?

Writers, please think, before you write, before you publish.  We are messing with other people’s minds here! Don’t just jot down every single piece of you-know-what that enters your imagination, that’s what common sense is for.  And if it slips out, well make sure you don’t repeat the insanity.  Always remember that with great power comes great responsibility.

And for educational purposes I will add the clip of Britney’s song, that just seems wrong…yet right.  And if you don’t agree with me, then promise you won’t sing along.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=C-u5WLJ9Yk4

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To the lyricists…What were you thinking?

6 thoughts on “To the lyricists…What were you thinking?

  1. I wish there were a “like-very-much” button for this post.
    If you think English songs are creepy, be thankful you don’t know Tamil. Many Tamil movie songs are outrageous (“you are grass and I am the goat that grazes you” – God, where is that sink when you want to throw up?) and it really freaks me that children sing such songs (without knowing their meaning, I can only hope). Scares the heck out of me when I think of the kind of tripe my daughter is being exposed to.
    I am very careful about what I write, say or even think. I think we are given a choice only because we know how to use it.

    Like

    • Thank you. And yes that quote of yours definitely needs some further mentioning. I may not be that cautious about my musings, some are even downright controversial but I’m against all forms of tripe.
      And thus try not be incorporate it in my writing. At least I try.

      Like

  2. I’ve been mostly tuned out of popular music for many years. The only time I hear it is when I’m in the car with the wife and kids. My five-year-old makes it better by singing the lyrics he thinks he’s hearing, which are often different, and more sensible, than the ones coming from the radio.

    Like

  3. There was a song in the 80s. The chorus was “Boom, boom, boom, let’s go back to my room. There we can do it all night, there we can do it alright”. I thought it was genius lyrical poetry. And then there is Britney! Oh Britney, she’s a literary giant!

    Like

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