Thursday, June 13, 2013

Embrace the Old

Forgive me for a moment while I show my age, but what the heck are kids listening to today?

I'm pretty sure 90% of today's "music" is meant to be enjoyed under the influence of drugs, preferably ones that make you think your hands are fluffy kittens with which you use to pet your face while purple daisies tap dance in front of you.

Funny thing is, most of the young people (you know you're old when you refer to teens, as "young people") I come in contact with don't seem to be hallucinating, and yet, they seem to enjoy this "music." Which means that either they are so often under the influence of hallucinogens that soft cat hands and tap dancing daises are no big deal or they truly, genuinely, cross their heart hope to die, like this crap.

I don't take issue with the lyrics (mainly cuz I don't understand them -  more on that later), it's the sounds I have a problem with. I'm pretty sure when someone says, "These beats are sick, yo," what they are actually trying to say is, "This beats make me want to projectile vomit, yo."  The cocktail of noises assembled by recording artists will bring you to your knees faster than the combined alcohol content of six of New Orleans' famous Hurricane drinks. In fact, I'm pretty sure if you listen to this stuff long enough, you will die.

These "songs" sound as though someone unleashed three monkeys and a recording device into a kitchen, pressed record, and ran away. Except the only "instruments" in the room are one pot and a wooden spoon that the first monkey uses to tap out a "sick" monotonous beat, while monkey number two shrieks at random, all of which is interrupted by an occasional "splat!", which is, of course, monkey number three flinging his poo against the wall.

Flipping through the dial the other day, it was one poo flinging splat after another. I had to turn the radio off before I drove my car over the embankment and into the canal where I was welcomed into the sweet release of death by the heavenly melody of a 1,000 angels and St. Peter's harp.

As previously mentioned, the lyrics don't bother me. It's pretty hard to be offended by something you don't understand. Rap is some of my favorite music (because its beats do not have an affect on my upchuck reflex), but in order for maximum listening pleasure to be achieved, all songs should come with a Rapper to English Dictionary, because these guys are clearly speaking a different language.

Apparently a monkey (pronounced moan-key) is not a poo flinging animal, a lollipop is not a hard piece of candy on the end of stick, and a whistle is not something a referee wears around his neck. I'm not entirely sure what the real meaning of these things are, but one day I'll probably find out and be supremely offended. Or maybe not. When I was little I went around singing, "She don't eat meat, but she sure likes the bone." And my mom was all, "don't sing that." And I was all, "why not?" And she was all, "just don't."

Fast forward 20 years and I finally understand what Deadeye Dick was talking about. But instead of being outraged I was all, "hahahaha. that's clever."

Personally, I like songs that have meaning, are full or reflection or convey important messages. No song does a better job of conveying my message to the world right now than Icona Pop's I Love It.

I'll be honest, the beats of this song are borderline nauseating, but they make up for it when they shout I DON'T CARE!

This song would have come in handy a few years ago when my boss would plop down in my office and bother me with the most inane crap. Instead of all the nodding and brow furrowing and pretend note taking, I could have just played this song and left the room.

gsvCuR on Make A Gif, Animated Gifs

Can people's lives have anthems like countries do? If so, this song is totally my anthem, and I will order John Cusack to follow me around with a boombox over his head and every time I do something stupid (like superglue my finger to my face), or embarrassing (like give hugs to people who don't want them), John will press play and we will shout "I DON'T CARE!" and life will be grand.

In fact, maybe if I listen to this song long enough I won't care that most of today's music makes me want to weep for humanity, and that today's youth are in a constant state of hallucination, and that because of my scrupulous morals, I will never see the dancing daisies.

I'd really like to see the daisies. 

Comment gem!
Larks: Yeah, why can't we see bacon tell off a kid? I mean, we can put a man on the moon and make Franken-salmon but we can't figure out reanimated sassy bacon with a penchant for juvenile discipline? Priorities, people.


  1. I completely understand.... 90% of the music these days is shit.

  2. Well I just love this. Damn heathens and their fecal throwing monkey "music".

  3. There's a pop song out here now called Walks like Rihanna. About a woman who can't sing, or dance, or basically do jack shit, but it's okay because she walks like Rihanna. Does Rihanna have a special walk?! I have no idea. I've banned her in the house since my then 6 year old son started singing 'come on rude boy, boy, can you get it up'. Not ready for that just yet...

  4. Ha! Boyfriend has a personal vendetta against autotuning. He will immediately change the song on the radio if he hears it. And yell something like "AHHHH THE GD AUTOTUNING!"

  5. I blame Red Bull. Teens drink a lot of that stuff and it affects their brain. That's why they can enjoy music that you will never be able to enjoy. Unless you drunk a couple of Red Bulls. It's that simple. ;)

    1. And I blame idiotic parents who want to be their friend.

    2. Also, I love myself, so technically I'm embracing the old. ;)

  6. I LOVE that Icona Pop song. Like you, it's the I DON'T CARE that gets me. I remember when I really, truly, did not care. I'm working my way back toward that.


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  8. I really should not read your blog while eating/drinking. I would love to know what a "moan-key" is. I do know what a lollipop is, and unfortunately what the window and the wall maybe I don't want to know what a "moan-key" is, after all.


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