10 Terrible Songs That I Love
I have really good taste in book and movies, and then when it comes to music, I just sort of give up. When I start making a mix CD for a friend, I start off with a couple of good tracks by, say, The New Pornographers or someone — and then I start feeling an inevitable drift towards the shitty, shitty songs that I actually love. Then I start coming up with excuses in my head: “Maybe X also likes the Spice Girls,” I say to myself, knowing that this is not, in fact, the case. No one likes the Spice Girls except for me and some 13-year-old girls from the year 1997.
The Ancient Greeks had a saying — “Gn?thi seauton,” they said. “Know thyself.” And so, in the spirit of self-knowledge, its time to come to terms with my terrible musical taste. Because my bad musical taste isn’t going to get any better. It’s not going to go away. There may have been a time when I could have made the choice to have good taste in music, but I’m too old, and it’s too late for that now.
So here, in the spirit of that, are my favorite terrible songs:
1. The Black Eyed Peas, “Boom Boom Pow”
I like how will.i.am spends up to sixteen seconds coming up with the lyrics to his songs. Also, just having to type the name “will.i.am” in that way makes me want to punch a wall and throw things. Anyway. “I’m on the supersonic boom/ Y’all hear the spaceship zoom/ When, when I step inside the room/Them girls go ape-shit, uh.” …What? Even calling those things “lyrics” is highly charitable. You could lock some five-year-olds in a room with a bunch of cocaine and Red Bull, and they could come up with better lyrics than that. In fact, I think I just exposed the secret Black Eyed Peas songwriting process. …Did I mention that I love this song?
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If you’ve been looking for a chance to say something then this very well could be it.
I wish to God I’d had a list like this when I was 23.
Answer phones better than anyone else has answered phones before. Relay messages so brilliant, they bring people to tears. Turn the coffee run into the choreography of Swan Lake. Become best friends with every intern and every underling and every taxi driver you encounter.
I remember taking the pen and notebook from that woman outside the courtroom, flipping to a clean page in the book, and writing, JESSICA IS SAD in big, bold, uncoordinated letters. “My sister is going to be a good writer someday! Look at how nice her lines are!”