Wednesday, 7 August 2013


Welcome to the first ever post of Lyrical Cricketal with your host, The Lyric Cricket.
That would be me.

I'm here to right the wrong that pop/mainstream music thinks it can get away with scott free, hook line and a mountain of incoming liquid revenue aboard the QE2 heavy enough to sink her.

This wrong by the way is god awful lyrics that make no sense, poorly worded verses full of rhyme chrymes (similar to that one) and lazy techniques such as the scan sham; song lyrics 'scan' by matching the music down to the rhythm of the melody to the number of syllables to each word in what should be a seamless fashion, or should it do. I call it a scan sham when the words don't really flow right and the wording seems awkwardly forced to match the music.

I want to make it clear that I love music, I love lyrics and I may be the only one getting my well worn knick-knacks in a futile tethered twist about this whole thing but if someone is to do it, it may as well be me.

So I'm going to start off with a fairly recent tune that you may have heard on your travels.

Here goes nothing, I'm going in!    

I got this feeling on a summer's day when you were gone

I crashed my car into a bridge, I watched, I let it burn

I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs

I crashed my car into the bridge

I'm sorry, what? You got a feeling when some non-specified personage was absent without leave and that feeling made you want to crash your car into a bridge, there by endangering yourself, other motorists, the numerous passers by going about their everyday business and the peaceful ducks paddling obliviously in the river below? The fact that you state you watched this happen and then let it burn suggests that you weren't even driving the car at the time of impact. This can only mean that before hand you parked up a relative distance from the bridge, got out and pushed the car in the style accustomed to Mafia members for getting rid of incriminating evidence, allowing the runaway vehicle to collide into the targeted structure. Presumably even setting the car ablaze before hand seeing as it is unlikely the collision would cause such an explosion unless you inexplicably 'Hulked' out when giving the final 'heave ho' (given your rage issues however, the possibility may not be as far fetched as it sounds) To top this huge mountain of poor anger management cream with a big, fat, OCD cherry; you do this TWICE in the same stanza! This woman is more dangerous than eating a bowl of radioactive nettles.

Now a lot people may argue that I'm being too literal about this and the 'bridge' is a metaphor for the relationship and the crashing of the car is representative of her emphatically breaking the bond that used to join them. You may also argue that burning the bridge is symbolic of the fiery passion that drew them together and it was that very passion which ignited her to succumb to this nameless individual from the start. Which may ironically have spelled their downfall if he cheated on her with someone who was drawn to the same qualities as she was from the beginning, and some people will have to admit that I've actually thought about his much more than they have, give up and quit arguing their point unless they're prepared to face me in a 'geek off'.

That theory is all well and good, Icona but the problem you have is tone. Yes you could claim metaphor on some of those lines but then we come to the relatively basic act of packing your now ex's belongings into a bin liner and throwing it down the stairs, which correct me if I'm wrong, everything apart from the word 'shit', is not a metaphor (unless she has some bizarre scat fetish, or whatever floats her log) Plus in my opinion the language used doesn't come across as metaphoric in the slightest, it reads as disturbingly literal.

I repeat, she crashed the car twice, even after the bridge had been incinerated. A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.

 I don't care, I love it, I don't care

Given what you have previously said, the only conclusion to this chilling follow on is that you are a sociopath and a very obnoxious one at that. If this song is about a relationship break up and feeling liberated, somewhat psychotically I might add, then I can actually understand on both sides: Either he left you because you're nuttier than the inside of a constipated squirrel, after a 4 week binge of fruit cake and snickers bars, or you left him because the idea of sustaining a connection with something other than your own warped, narcissistic reflection leaves you as cold as an Inuit's lip hair (just slightly warmer than me when I hear this song on the radio then)

You're on a different road, I'm in the milky way

You want me down on earth but I am up in space

You're so damn hard to please, we gotta kill this switch

You're from the 70's but I'm a 90's bitch

Oh right you're on drugs. Well of course, that makes everything ok doesn't it? Actually in my opinion drugs is the easy way out for you. Any fool can explain their erratic behaviour due to narcotics but that doesn't make them less of a moron. I think the truth for you is much worse. You're just too 'mad !!!!!!!!! omg wtf totes amazballs YOLO' for mere mortals to 'get'. You even state you're on a different plane of existence in the freaking lyrics, so I can see why he's so damn hard to please when he's a grounded sort of chap and you're off snorting vapour trails from passing comets. He probably can't even get hold of you no matter how full his bar is and I can't begin to imagine the horror that would be your answer machine message *shudder* Also, 'we gotta kill this switch'? What the freaking hell are you on about? What switch? What does a switch have to do with anything related to your current position in any sense of the word's definition?

switch  (swch)
1. A slender flexible rod, stick, or twig, especially one used for whipping.
2. The bushy tip of the tail of certain animals: a cow's switch.
3. A thick strand of real or synthetic hair used as part of a coiffure.
4. A flailing or lashing, as with a slender rod.
5. A device used to break or open an electric circuit or to divert current from one conductor to another.
6. A device consisting of two sections of railroad track and accompanying apparatus used to transfer rolling stock from one track to another.
a. The act or process of operating a switching device.
b. The result achieved by such an act.
8. An exchange or a swap, especially one done secretly.
9. A transference or shift, as of opinion or attention

You are officially talking out of your ARSE!!! Seriously, if anything the definition of exchanging or transference is the only way I can see the connection, but that implies that the switch is being used. Not killed. I don't use my toaster by stabbing it with a freaking pitchfork. Just admit it, this entire line was used either as a foolish play on words ie. kill switch, which makes little sense seeing as that is another term for emergency stop and the only way you seem to slow down is by smacking into a trestle. Or you just wanted a word to rhyme with bitch because that line was considered far too relevant to the context of the song. I'll be honest, you do a good job of establishing that you are a bitch in the song more than well enough without you having to spell it out. We get it, we really do

70's versus 90's? Oh please...

That Don't Impress Me Much with your 90's obsession. You're so Unbelievable! Get A Life you walking Firestarter, Hazard Wannabe. Keep On Moving and Things Can Only Get Better, cause It's Like That and that's the way it is ... HUH!!!

Oh and the Drugs Don't Work, apparently they make you worse. Would I Lie To You? (oh yeahh!)

Fire may take you One Step Beyond but for How Long?  Red Light Spells DangerDarlin' and Smoke Get's In Your Eyes. Life On Mars is a Storm In A Tea CupLove Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) for the Harvest Of The World so I've Got The Music In Me and That's The Way *uh huh uh huh* I Like It *uh huh uh huh*

We are The Champions and that's enough to Make Me Smiiiiiiiiiiiille     woh - woh ohh.


I don't care, I love it

I don't care , I love it, I love it  

I don't care, I love it

I don't care , I love it, I love it

I do care.
I hate it.

Truly a message that needs to be shouted from the rooftops and embraced by today's masses much more so than it is already:

'I am a colossal twat and have no respect for anything or anyone other than my own inconsiderate needs, vices and urges no matter what the consequence. Everyone else can eat shit.'


The musical equivalent of sticking your fingers in your ears and going 'la la la' whilst urinating on the recipients pet kitten. Just not as witty.

This represents one of the worryingly recurring reasons why a lot mainstream music can go and fornicate with it's own rectum whilst simultaneously sucking one off with the head that is firmly stuck up said orifice. The whole 'me me me' generation of artists (I use the term VERY loosely) think their audiences have nothing better to aspire to than their own hot air inflated personas. People should want to hear music that connects to them, not a 3 min spiel about how you love to kiss your own arse or the numerous people you pay to do it for you.

As for this nonsense? Icona Pop didn't write the song (Charlotte Aitchison, Patrik Berger, Linus Eklöw you are firmly to blame for this) so I can't be too hard on them but their vocals certainly aren't anything special. It's the same chanty, oh Mickey you're so fine talk/singing that seems catchy at first but then you begin to wonder if the girls in question can actually sing without it sounding like they're at a football match. The notes are shouted out in some semblance of order that could possibly be a melody if it weren't so freaking repetitive, unoriginal and had but a figment of charisma about it. I may loathe the song Call Me Maybe but at least there's a certain simpleton like charm about the whole thing; such as how anyone could have delusions of grandeur that big and still keep on harking on about the love of her life being 'in her way' the same as a JCB would be 'in the way' of me trying to get to work on time. I Love It has nothing of the sort. It's devoid of any real feeling other than selfishness and makes the singers come across as likable as Tamara Ecclestone burning her money to fire the veal only barbeque she's set up at a vegan festival.

The lyrics simply reek of a tired manufactured pop formula which I call can't be arsed-itis.

'Catchy tune is all we need' they thought, 'so let's throw in any old rubbish as long as it scans well regardless of how ludicrous they seem on closer inspection'. You could replace the verse lyrics with anything and it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference to the feel of the song. I'll prove it

I've got a custard cream stuck in my pants, it's very long
I got it caught up on a ridge, I cannot fully turn
It's thrown my back out once again, this cake will not play fair
I should have left it in the fridge

I don't care, I love it

See? The imagery is stupid but at least you have an idea of what is going on and it makes more sense than loving the feeling a head long vehicular crash (the less said about that David Cronenberg film the better)

If you like the song then fair enough, you may like the beat and the party anthem sound that has you bouncing up and down like a pogo stick on the Vengabus, but next time you hear this song, listen to it. Really listen and ask yourself this question: Would you be friends with this girl?

'Hi Icona, how are things ?'

I'm good thanks. I've decided to break it off with that guy I am seeing

'Oh no, that's a bit crap. How did that come about?'

I just had this feeling when he was at work. It being a nice a summer day and all

'What kind of feeling?'

Nothing worth saying. Fancy going a drive?

'Err.. are sure you don't want to talk about things first? I mean you've known the guy for a while now, hasn't he moved in? I know your tastes are different and he's bit more old fashioned than you but you seemed pretty good together.'

Not really

'Ok... where we driving to?'


'What a great idea... Actually that's a terrible idea, the insurance forms would be a logistical nightmare, to what purpose would that serve?'


'That seems a tad extreme'


'There must be easier ways to resolve that issue. I mean if you're determined to use the bridge as an instrument of closure then simply driving over the bridge has more basis of being 'over' someone than colliding into it and do you realise you're shouting? There's really no need, I'm right next to you.'


'I have no idea what that means so moving on; you could just throw his things out and make a clean start.'


'Maybe even delete his number from your phone?'


'You're still shouting'

I KNOW!!!!  I LOVE IT!!!!

'Just drop me off here thanks'

Personally, I think this would start to get wearisome after a while.


Tune in next week where I'll be exploring the reasons why setting fire to the rain may not be the only evidence that Adele is a wee bit of a head case

"Most critics couldn't make music by rubbing their back legs together"
Mel Brooks

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