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| The feeling is not mutual, Travie buddy |
Tons of great stuff in the Phoenix's year in review issue this week. David Thorpe's The Big Hurt: Weighing 2011 against decades past Liz Pelly on indie labels Indie labels fill the majors' void in 2011 , Michael Marotta's thorough break down of The year in Boston rock and a lot more. Go check it out.
Most relevant to our own hateful purposes here, however, is my contribution: PTSOTL names the shittiest songs of 2011. Go check it out there, then come back here below and tell me you like the way I hate things. Apologies to Cher Lloyd, whose "Swagger Jagger" I forgot existed, or else it surely would have been on here, and to the gang at TGI Friday's Methuen, who's ass-rap commercial came in after press time.
People wonder why music journalists are so grumpy all the time. At least they would if a single person in the world actually cared what music journalists think. But consider this, we're accustomed to the idea of post traumatic stress disorder among those who labor in dangerous professions, soldiers, and so on. We pretty much have the exact same job. Except instead of bullets we spend our days dodging projectiles of musical excrement hurled at our faces day over and over. We're out here on the frontlines taking heavy fire, so that you, the good music-stealing citizens of the world can sleep soundly at night. Practically heroes, I suppose you might say.
Over the past year writing about music in the Phoenix, and at my own blog Put That Shit On the List, a sort of spite-fueled daily colonoscopy of the internet, I confronted the musical heart of darkness man to man, and I did not like what I saw, the most cringeworthy results of which I share with you herein, because I hate you.
I haven't run the numbers on this one, but it's probably safe to assume the quality of a song is indirectly proportional to the number of videos that exist of professional athletes and basic ass bitches dancing to it for funsies on YouTube right? Speaking of numbers, apparently every second of every day someone in the world is clicking play on this video on YouTube – the music equivalent of a cash-stuffed scarecrow husk in a designer baller polo propped up on the edge of the quality farm to scare away actual music fans – which would be impressive if you didn't remember that your average person is functionally retarded.
Reading through Blood on the Dance Floor's wiki here, and the crunkcore act from Orlando (no shit?) apparently “pulls from a wide variety of genres including electronica, alternative rock, post-hardcore, dubstep, pop, and hip hop,” which is surprising because I figured they pulled from their fluorescent peacock at the mall piercing kiosk anuses. This meandering synth-besmeared track, a charcuterie board of genre pâté (ground meat and fat minced into a spreadable paste for the non-foodies), “kind of like if Adam Lambert and Brokencyde had gay babies,” as one PTSOTL reader put it, somehow manages to give crunkcore a bad name, something that's not very easy to do because that's already the worst genre in history of genres. Coincidentally, the band don't simply shoehorn as much accumulated musical detritus into their songs as they can, they also pile as many scene-signifying knickknacks onto their outfits, hair and faces as humanly possible. In that regard at least these Jenga-wave bros are thematically consistent.
A common trope in pandemic apocalypse stories is the scene where an infected traveller makes it onto an international flight due to some last minute serendipity just as the area is being quarantined/nuked into oblivion, and the insidious zombie infections/weapons-grade virus escapes to infect the world. Then we all die. Horribly. In the case of “The Boys”, the international hit from the Korean jailbait automaton assembly Girls Generation, the virus sluiced forth unto the world takes the shape of dated Gwen Stefani drum line “flow” and the fourth-rate Britney production we specialize in Stateside. A bit of international fluff for teenagers wouldn't have made this list otherwise, except for the number of “serious music journalists” that will be trying to convince us all that K-Pop is going to be a total thing this year. Let's nip this in the bud, shall we. Wait, I don't mean it like that.
"Livin de Life" by A. Samuels
Is it unfair to include a non-pro musician on the list here? Maybe, but not as unfair as making me listen to the apotheosis of the funky grandpa-rap genre from casino executive and Newark's most embarrassing prom chaperon, Samuels, who would have single-handedly spoiled the year in hip hop with this medicated hemorrhoid cushion of a “joint” if it weren't for literally every other cat in the game racing him to the bottom. The brilliant video somehow manages to combine having access to borrowed jets and rented, dangling, Jersey-crusted teets with having the highest quality doctors on call, which is what apparently passes for swag in the over 55 set. Imagine your dad just woke up from a coma after 30 years, and the first thing you did was rush him on stage at the Apollo Theater open mic spoken word night, and it still wouldn't be this cringe-worthy. At least he's harkening back to the posi-hip hop I remember from back in the day, saying “it ain’t about black yo it ain’t about white it ain’t about folks creeping into the night. It ain’t about the Asians, it about the Jews, it ain’t about the Christians, Muslims, yo fools.”
“Don't Put It On Me” by Courtney Stodden
Ever imagine falling into a bottomless pit? Would you die from a heart attack at some point, or would you just keep falling and falling and screaming and screaming until you died of thirst after a couple days? I think about that a lot. Speaking of giant holes, the musical pit of despair we've been digging ourselves this year goes down a few levels further than we thought. This freshly vagazzled, jittery pink horror from Courtney Stodden, newly crowned turd princess of the internet hinterlands, slithered up from the abyss, unfurled its voracious thousand-jawed tentacles and carried us all off to a frigid, eternal musical doom. It's so cold down here. So cold.
While this oddly slow and talky song is an affront in and of itself, sounding something like Rivers Cuomo might've nodded off in the middle of writing with his dick in his fist and a Girls Generation video on the laptop, (bonus fact: he actually did co-write it!) the real crime comes in the video, where the pop punk group try to pass off this wacky pop-culture referencing sell-out song as being a tongue in cheek commentary on the idea of “selling out.” Knowing what the band are trying to do here -- get their product placement money but act like it's a joke, have dancing girls in bikinis, but, you know 'dancing girls in bikinis' – makes it even worse. It's like the corporate version of the Christian idea of original sin, we're all born sold out now. Seriously though, how long do you think it will really be before babies start falling out of corporate-tattooed uterii wearing sick Rockstar Energy newborn v-neck onesies? Ten years tops?
“Surrounded By Silence” by Design the Skyline
Gonna be honest here, this could actually be the best song of the year for all I know, but I had to bail as soon as I heard what sounded like Super Mario arguing with his mom about why it's unfair she won't drive him to the skate park to fight dragons. The rest, I'm told, is all guttural demon screaming, video game sounds, playschool hardcore, shitty drumming and entry level AZN emo twinks with multi-colored hair (who happened to net the #82 slot on our Unsexiest Men of 2011 list). Pro tip for confused moms wondering why little Madison won't finish her dinner anymore, it's because she needs to go reblog dreck like this on her FuckYeahAwfulMusic Tumblr for the 13th time in a row.
“Girl Swag” by Madison Bray
In this, the long-awaited follow up to Rebecca Black's “Friday” from the masterminds at Ark Music Factory, this sexy school yard track from 3rd grade “diva” Madison Bray – never mind barely legal, she's barely-cognitively developed – details the normal travails of childhood, like wondering where they keys to your Beemer are. "I don't need nobody” she sings at one point. Except my mom and dad to drive me to the recording studio and pay the nice man with the promise of stardom on his forked tongue, she probably forgot to include. At least she didn't rhyme it with jagger, we'll always have that.
“We'll Be Alright” by Travie McCoy
You ever swallow a handful of vitamins on an empty stomach? You know that queasy feeling where you're not sure if you have to puke or shit, but your stomach is straight grinding up medicinal chalk dust back up into your esophagus? This songs sounds like that feels. I know this sort of thing has been going on for decades now, where we have to hear the beloved songs of our youth stripped of everything that made them joyous and exuberant in the first place and turned into yet another watered-down bottle-service in the club soundtrack, but there's an important distinction here: they never did it to Supergrass, a band I actually care about, before. We wake up. We go out. Ruin a song. Put it out. Get the cash. Get the fame. We're alright.
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15 comments:
pretty sure this is the definitive list. there can be no worse shit than this shit.
holy fucking shit does everything suck. just speed it up global warming or alien invasion or whatever the fuck. please just end us.
I have high hopes that 2012 is going to be even worse. We're off to a good start with that will.i.am t.ur.d
I am angry that I can't un-hear that Travie McCoy song.
For once I'm glad that YouTube is blocked at work and so I can't experience firsthand the shittitude of these tracks. Google Image Search, on the other hand, is perfectly acceptable, allowing me to ogle pictures of Girls' Generation with lecherous aplomb.
Hilarious list, especially the bit on Courtney Stodden's "thousand-jawed tentacles". Bravo.
I think you profiled some song earlier this year about a bunch of tarted-up whores rapping about bling. Some some of bitch supergroup that unconsciously makes domestic abuse applied to them acceptable.
...that should read "some sort", not "some some".
Oh right! Goddamit, I have no recollection of what that was called. Sunburned Tits Squad? efff
Thanks ChRon. Consider yourself lucky for not watching.
@revpete -- do you care about the supergrass song? it's so much worse if you do. and i'm usually not precious about covers of bands i love.
Girls Generation is full of prime Korean javina. They're pretty hot compared to the pug faced peasants at the local restaurant. I guess because they're not so chinky? Anyway good vid to M&M (mute and masturbate). God bless us every one! Merry Christmas.
Pumped up kicks?
Thanks anon1! Happy fapping.
anon2: yeah, but that's a good song that was just ruined by ubiquity.
Travie was just having fun, but i can see were this song would get annoying..... =/
So was Stalin.
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