Saturday, 8 February 2014

LYRICAL CRICKETAL Bruno Mars - Gorilla

Bruno Mars


The Lyric Cricket

Happy Belated New Year to you all!

I, Cricket have returneth to write the words and expose the song for what it truly is (in the broadest most obtuse ways possible, naturally) More often than not, it's a meaningless pile of dross that someone just happened to write a pop melody for that fit it quite nicely. Job done, Bob's your Uncle and you have song containing such perplexing and far reaching connections as Greek mythology and getting one's coat because they have very much pulled. All for the sake of that most masterful and Iron Fisted ruler of masters; Melody. Screw that noise I say, I want to be able to relate to what ever you're going on about at least in some way. Pulling in a club just isn't good enough for me and besides my last venture into night life ended most abruptly; something about wearing the wrong shoes, having no visible cleavage (despite the push-up bra) and possibly having the wrong face. I really couldn't hear much over the screaming.

So, mainstream be warned; I see all, I hear all and I write about all things from a lyrical standpoint and my words mean precisely zilch and will have no effect what so ever. Yes, that's the kind of clout I carry in my holster and my choice of revolver will cause various degrees of indifference. You hear that mainstream! Just call me Quick Draw Ignore; except change the quick to 'every now and then', draw to 'write' and actually don't bother. That ends up a pretty lame ass name, even for a cowboy.

Last year has been a glorious year for ridiculous lyrics; from Cyrus saying that her Wrecking Ball is going wreck itself by doing the job it's designed to do and Perry quoting every 80's song under the sun (always shining on TV) and has a difficult time distinguishing between being knocked down and held down (you can get up if you've been knocked down but to do so if you're being held in place is rather more difficult)

Last year certainly had it's goodies, baddies and just plain uglies in the lyrical world but what gets me riled up though is when it's a genuinely good artist, just can't seem to get the hand of lyric writing. I'm speaking about Mr Bruno Mars and make no mistake about it, he is good at writing music and decent songs. He's a great singer and multi-instrumentalist. He's more of what the mainstream music world needs without a doubt. Despite some pretty generally dodgy lyrics, I like quite a few of his tunes.

This song however... disturbs me

Song starts around the 1:50 mark

Ooh I got a body full of liquor with a cocaine kicker and I'm feeling like I'm thirty feet tall

Start with what you know eh, Mars?

Ok, that was a cheap shot and besides he's well into the rehab programme and paid the hefty $2000 fine for the felony long ago. How's that for a dent into his multi-million fortune? He's probably spent more than that on the coke itself, and the hair cut. These celebs get far too easily ripped off these days.

So lay it down, lay it down

Lay what down? What is 'it'? The only thing you've mentioned thus far is your own body full of potentially harmful, gurn inducing substances. There by you are referring to yourself in both the third person and as an abstract non human entity. Just how high are you Mars? I think thirty feet is a gross underestimate. You're probably so high that your made-up namesake actually makes sense for a change. I don't think you should stop here Mars. To you; this very well could be bat country.

You got your legs up in the sky with the devil in your eyes
Let me hear you say you want it all
Say it now, say it now

Way hay. There's someone else is in this anonymous, hitherto unknown location which I can only assume is a bedroom, with you. Good, now we're getting somewhere and at least Bruno won't be alone if he starts convulsing and suffering acute organ failure due to substance abuse.

First thing is first though: Enough of this 'you' nonsense. This person, I'm guessing of the female persuasion, always gets referred to as 'you' and I for one am sick of it. No longer however, I'm finally going to let the name - see the subjective pronoun (try that for size, Paddy McGuiness):

Welcome to the song, Beryl. Please make yourself comfortable.

Ok that's not the position I would normally go for in terms of comfort but hey, if it works for you fair enough. Bruno certainly seems intrigued by it...

So Beryl has the Devil in her eyes and her legs in the sky, does she? To be honest, I've always kind of liked the overused metaphor describing something so sexy it's evvilllll. Cliche to be sure, to be sure (just like that one) but one that never seems to get old and at least it's accurate (unless Cliff Richard is singing it about it. He wouldn't know a devil woman if one came over and pulled his soul out through his scrotum) What isn't accurate however, is suggesting you are in a private, enclosed 'romp' room and to have one's legs in the sky; unless it's a combination of having a really high bed, really low ceiling and cowboy plasterers. What I'm saying is that you can't have 'legs in the sky' unless you are outside. Legs in the air, yes. Sky, no. The reason Mars has done this is a lazy, good old fashioned rhyme chryme and certainly not the last we will run into within the duration of this song. We just had one above with liquor and kicker. Oh you thought you got away with that one, did you Mars?

Now that I think about it, Mars never directly indicated a room at all. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps they are outside. Maybe their going to go through this entire sequence of events al freaking fresco. Beryl could very well have her legs in the sky because she's head first in a plant pot, for all I know.

Moreover, asking, nay begging Beryl to say she wants it all (as if she's in a much better Queen song) not only comes across as desperate but also decidedly creepy. Stop creeping her out Mars! She's got a plant pot and isn't afraid to introduce it to your face.

 Look what you're doing, look what you've done
But in this jungle you can't run

Christ, Beryl... what are you doing? Screw that; what have you already done?! I know! I don't know what Mars is on about either! I mean, he's just throwing these accusations left right and centre with no evidence to back up his claims and just scaremongering you into giving in to his demands of assurance. Don't do it Beryl, you're better than this, you haven't done anything wrong within these first few stanzas, so fear not one little jot. Just one thing though; why the freaking hell are you in the jungle?

Turns out they are outside, way way outside. Makes sense given the title of the song but I didn't think Mars was being so literal. Best keep your arms to the side, watch what you step on and don't eat the red berries unless you see a monkey do it first. Machetes at the ready and lets do this bad ass bush!
Actually, he's not been literal. The answer much more boring than this; it's a combo rhyme chryme and a lead up into the main theme of the song. What could that be? Lets have a look...

Cause what I got for you
I promise it's a killer, you'll be banging on my chest
Bang bang, gorilla

Here it is; he's based the entire song in order to successfully rhyme something with killer. He chose for that task, gorilla. I guess he couldn't use 'thriller' as the already abundant Michael Jackson similarities would get way out of hand. To be fair, what was he left with:

Miller? Biller? Scylla? Armadill-ah?...

I'm not saying they're great choices or anything, I'm just saying that options were most certainly available to him. If I come up with some better ideas over the course of the song I'll be sure to let you know.

Meanwhile, back in the jungle; still more threats towards Beryl, Mars? That certainly what it sounds like. I know she's giving you the 'come to hell' eyes but geez man, give her time to come around to your alternative charm. Give her space, give her room, try normal conversation, try flowers but whatever you don't say that what you've got for her is a killer. Unless you are actually trying to warn her of the hemlock you've got stuffed down your boxers. Also, why is Beryl is banging your chest, Mars?... Even in the throes of primate passion that seems like a very strange thing to do. Gorillas tend to beat their own chest in order to demonstrate they're powerful alpha male status. Here though you've got the woman banging your chest for you, so the only thing this demonstrates is that you're more a lazy, lay back and think of Africa kind of gorilla. This means you could be armed with a passion killer so powerful, you may as well be trying to hump Beryl wearing an actual gorilla suit with bowtie and a tutu.

Another way of looking at it is as more of a 'get off' signal than one that says 'give it to me baby *uh-huh* *uh-huh*' Maybe cardiac arrest came on quicker than we thought and she's trying freaking CPR. On a more lighter note maybe that's the cue to know if someone has gone too far with the fantasy.

Knock twice on chest, say safe word (gorilla) and role play will dispense with immediate affect.



Gorilla! *bang bang* Gorilla for Pete's sake!
I can't bang your chest, I'm bloody handcuffed now stop this nonsense and put that spatula the feck down!!

 You and me baby making love like gorillas
Ooooooooooooooo oooooooo oooooo
Yeahhhh yeahhhh
 You and me baby making love like gorillas

Ok, lets get down to what your trying to do with this song: Your vocals are gliding all over the notes like some lewd water slide in a Barry White themed amusement park. The music is pounding, dynamic and undeniably sexy.

('You and me baby having treats like vanilla')

This has the makings of a very good hit the sack with your lover tune. You just fail on one, fairly significant angle however.


Gorillas having sex, is no boner inducing matter. Hell, they barely get a boner themselves when they do get around from bragging how good they are to actually fornicating. I know the idea of a gorilla sounds big, bad, muscular and beast like but it's all a lie when it comes to down to letting the nitty see the gritty. Relative to it's size, the male Gorilla has the smallest sexual organ in the animal kingdom (Thanks, Dr House) Also the noise and motion that is involved in the act is roughly the same as someone filling out a tax return, except with out the groans. Honestly Bruno, you'd have been better off saying 'you and me baby making hay like chinchillas' They are proper horny little things, just like you it would seem.

Yeah I got a fistful of your hair
But you don't look like you're scared
You're just smiling tell me daddy it's yours

Ok Mars; what is Beryl saying is yours? Hmm? Her hair? She told you that did she? Of her own accord? Uh huh. Oh really? Are you her father? You heard me, are you her Father? I don't give a damn if she's grinning like The Joker with a happy meal, are you her Father? Good, I should bloody well hope not considering where your eyes have been hovering. Swear to god Mars you are going to much less than three steps to being Locked Out Of Heaven permanently, now would you kindly release her scalp, you're not an 19th century Apache. (Oh and by the way, hair and scared don't rhyme. You're slipping Mars, into the abyss of awful goddamn rhyming)

The only way I conceive of this verse making sense is that Beryl is so off her face on hallucinogens she has no functions left but to smile inanely and hallucinate things that aren't there... Oh no...

This can't be, I mean it's been released as music for everyone but the more I delve into this lyrics the more disturbed I'm getting. Mars! You despicable human being!

This is unorthodox but let me just recap

Ooh I got a body full of liquor with a cocaine kicker and I'm feeling like I'm thirty feet tall

You're not talking about yourself are you Mars?... This body... is a semi conscious Beryl! You've had her out all night, got her blind drunk, coked up and now you have a woman, who has no control over her faculties, trapped in your seedy 'jungle'. I say woman but you don't even give her the decency to credit her with a gender. You lay 'it' down. Not only does she mean less to you than a Grammy Award but you're telling yourself to 'lay it down', so you could likely have a very Jekyll and Hyde thing going on here, you schizo pervert.

I'm not joking either about being trapped, you specifically say that she 'can't run', there's no escape for Beryl here. She may have the devil in her eyes but she's got no idea who the freaking hell you are, Mars. More telling and chilling than all of this though, is the chorus. Making love like Gorillas. I'm sure in your own twisted mind you probably think that you are making love Mars, the reason why you're associating gorillas with what you're doing however is due to there being NO PHYSICAL RESPONSE AT ALL.

This is wrong Bruno, this is not the way! You're rich, talented and you could always look into platform heels like Prince if you're worried about height issues but what you are doing here is just evil

And illegal, shockingly

Speaking of which...

Cause you know how I like it you's a dirty little lover
If the neighbours call the cops, call the sheriff, call the SWAT we don't stop, we keep rocking while they knocking on our door

It was only a matter of time before the neighbours found out about this Mars, did you think they wouldn't know? They must have been watching you for weeks before this excessive use of police force was mobilised to trying to shut down your jungle boogie wonderland. This even suggests that Beryl might not be your first victim either.
Oh and I'm pretty sure even you would stop if the SWAT broke down the door with battering ram and you're staring down the cold blue steel barrel of an H&K MP5. That's usually what happens if you ignore the knocking because you're too busy rocking. There not just going to pack up, leave a 'we were here card' and leave you on your merry, rapey way. Especially when they can freaking hear you, you dumbass.  

Speaking of dumbass, why is it every time I hear the line 'you's a dirty little lover' do I imagine Mars pinching Beryl's cheek in a coo coo kitchy coo way that is usually reserved by highly patronizing adults to infants? Obviously the subject matter would be different but Mars is already due to get busted good and proper, so it's not like his day could get any worse.
Rocking and knocking I can live with. Cops, SWAT and stop is you taking serious rhyming liberties, my soon to be handcuffed friend.


And you're screaming give it to me baby
Give it to me m-therf-cker

('You and me baby riding hard on my pillar')

Aw Beryl, shame on you. I expected better than such filthy, disgusting language. Being drugged up and held captive is no excuse for lack of decorum, now quit that now before I wash your mouth out with soap, or before Mars does it to you just in case he's into that too.

Actually this just goes to show how much the drugs are still having affect. Beryl is still clearly hallucinating, she was calling Mars 'daddy' and a father is someone, who by puerile, pedantic definition alone, has at one point been a mother... ah ha! Got another one! 

('You and me baby wrecking shit like Godzilla')


I bet you never ever felt so good, so good
I got your body trembling like it should, it should
You'll never be the same baby once I'm done with you

Once again Mars is hitting Beryl with the demand for constant reassurance that she is both enjoying what he's doing and praise for doing a good job. You are aware that these are classic signs of a power reassurance sex criminal, right Mars?   

I very much doubt she will be the same too, you are spot on there Mars. Once the police inquest is over and she's had her day in court over video conferencing because she's too scared to look at you and can't look at a rolled up dollar bill with having an anxiety attack, I very much doubt she will ever be the same. Beryl will carry these emotional scars with her the rest of her fictional life. See what you've done Mars? The hypothetical damage you've caused this this woman of narrative fabrication.

Beryl will never be able to go the zoo again. Are you ashamed of yourself, Mars? Good, you should be. Everyone should be able to go to the zoo. Apart from you, your obsession with gorillas must be quelled first before you take that first step on the path to recovery. Best start with the gibbons first.    

So, that's Gorilla.

Lets just say that Mars has done better songs and some even without rape connotations. It's also not got a lot going for it musically, a lot of it seems to copy and paste bits of other songs and styles and despite Bruno Mars' good vocals it fails to blow you away like it's designed to. Mainly because it has a certain sound of songs you've heard before, but can't quite place.
Plus the chord sequence in the chorus is the same as Nickleback's Rock Star. 

There are much worse songs out there but it's boring and feels a little rushed. Lyrics that are creepy as hell don't do it any favours either.

('You and me baby in a song that's a filler') 
I'm sure his next song though will be able to clear his name of any wrong doing, clarify some gross misunderstanding and have nothing controversial in it all.

Right Bruno?


'You and me baby taking dumps like gorillas

Pooo ooo ooo ooooooooooooooooooo
(Cause we all just wanna be big Rock Stars, live in hill top houses, driving 15 cars...)
Yeah yeah yeah yeaahhh

You and me baby chucking lumps like gorillas'
'Most critics couldn't make good music if they rubbed their hind lives together'
Mel Brooks

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