Music Banter - View Single Post - Under the Scalpel: Dissecting Pop Culture One Song at a Time

asimplecomplex · 02-18-2010, 01:21 PM

ok. no link. got it.

Under the Scalpel 02.18.10

On the eve of Valentine's Day, I was driving home listening to Sirius Love Channel 3 – just to get into the proper mood for the upcoming holiday – when Barry White's classic song "Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe" began to play.

Immediately, I spun the volume knob clockwise and ripped it off the radio. The Sultan of Soul was in the house. And I was his backup. I then proceeded to belt lyrics out alongside Mr. White at eardrum-shattering volume, complete with random, poorly choreographed arm flailing. I'm quite certain the people in cars around me thought I was certifiably nuts.

After our fourth rehearsal, I was primed and ready to go. Oh, the off-key caterwauling my wife was soon to be subjected to was sure to be reasonable grounds for divorce.

Fortunately (for me), she's developed total immunity to my awful serenading, having mastered the art of completely tuning me out. And that's a good thing. Not only does my voice still crack sometimes like a teenager going through puberty, but when I've finally failed to hit enough correct notes, I succumb to a fiery falsetto so obnoxious any innocent bystander would assume my raisins had flown south for the winter.

But I digress.

Last week I heard songwriter-turned-artist Robin Thicke's "steamy-meets-raisinless" song "Sex Therapy" for the first time. Sadly, I did not get the urge to crank up the volume on this particular pop soul song for a number of reasons.

First, being a white R&B artist is a bit like being a white rapper. In the world of rap, for every Eminem there are a hundred cheesy Vanilla Ices. The same goes for blue-eyed soul. For every Teena Marie, there are a hundred Rick Astleys (on a totally unrelated note, click this link, I dare ya!) Choosing the career of being a Caucasian soul crooner is no easy feat. You have to be better than good; you have to be amazing. Thicke clearly is not.

Second, attempting to get into this song's groove is like trying to run in three feet of water. The beat sounds chopped and screwed like a 45 being played at 33 RPM. Plus it never changes. Not even slightly.

Third, Thicke's voice sounds like a 45 being played at 78 RPM. I can't help but feel I'm listening to Alvin Seville set the mood for a little "bow chicka wow wow".

Lastly, the lyrics are generic and trite. Even his pilfering of the Lesley Gore song "It's My Party" can't save this song.

It's your body, you can yell if you want to,
Loud if you want to, scream if you want to,
Just let me love you, lay right here,
Girl, don't be scared of me,
Give you sex therapy, give you sex therapy.

If I wanted to hear Marvin ***e's "Sexual Healing", I'd just cue it up on my music player. I don't need a helium-sucking George Michael look-alike to rewrite it.

Thicke's attempts at being romantic in this song fall completely flat. However, if he truly wants show his partner some romance, I have an idea. How about doing a little less bragging about his "super sperm" and a little more asking his dad to take down the naked poster of his wife hanging in the living room. Just a suggestion.

I prefer my soul the way my cousin Dan likes his coffee: black and strong. Spin me some Barry White, Marvin ***e, Anita Baker, Otis Redding, et al, and I'm a happy soul. Still, that doesn't mean I can't enjoy an occasional shrill R&B number like Michael Jackson's "Liberian Girl" or Prince's "The Most Beautiful Girl In The World". Hell, I can even stomach Color Me Badd's "I Wanna Sex You Up" once per decade.

But "Sex Therapy"? Sorry, I won't be busting this Thicke.

My wife got a chance to watch the song's video. She commented that Thicke may have nice teeth and eyes, but he sings higher than even she can – and "that is not a good thing". Hmm… I'm starting to think she'd almost prefer my singing over Thicke's.

Almost.

02-18-2010, 01:21 PM	#3 (permalink)
asimplecomplex Groupie Join Date: Feb 2010 Location: NH Posts: 14	ok. no link. got it. Under the Scalpel 02.18.10 On the eve of Valentine's Day, I was driving home listening to Sirius Love Channel 3 – just to get into the proper mood for the upcoming holiday – when Barry White's classic song "Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe" began to play. Immediately, I spun the volume knob clockwise and ripped it off the radio. The Sultan of Soul was in the house. And I was his backup. I then proceeded to belt lyrics out alongside Mr. White at eardrum-shattering volume, complete with random, poorly choreographed arm flailing. I'm quite certain the people in cars around me thought I was certifiably nuts. After our fourth rehearsal, I was primed and ready to go. Oh, the off-key caterwauling my wife was soon to be subjected to was sure to be reasonable grounds for divorce. Fortunately (for me), she's developed total immunity to my awful serenading, having mastered the art of completely tuning me out. And that's a good thing. Not only does my voice still crack sometimes like a teenager going through puberty, but when I've finally failed to hit enough correct notes, I succumb to a fiery falsetto so obnoxious any innocent bystander would assume my raisins had flown south for the winter. But I digress. Last week I heard songwriter-turned-artist Robin Thicke's "steamy-meets-raisinless" song "Sex Therapy" for the first time. Sadly, I did not get the urge to crank up the volume on this particular pop soul song for a number of reasons. First, being a white R&B artist is a bit like being a white rapper. In the world of rap, for every Eminem there are a hundred cheesy Vanilla Ices. The same goes for blue-eyed soul. For every Teena Marie, there are a hundred Rick Astleys (on a totally unrelated note, click this link, I dare ya!) Choosing the career of being a Caucasian soul crooner is no easy feat. You have to be better than good; you have to be amazing. Thicke clearly is not. Second, attempting to get into this song's groove is like trying to run in three feet of water. The beat sounds chopped and screwed like a 45 being played at 33 RPM. Plus it never changes. Not even slightly. Third, Thicke's voice sounds like a 45 being played at 78 RPM. I can't help but feel I'm listening to Alvin Seville set the mood for a little "bow chicka wow wow". Lastly, the lyrics are generic and trite. Even his pilfering of the Lesley Gore song "It's My Party" can't save this song. It's your body, you can yell if you want to, Loud if you want to, scream if you want to, Just let me love you, lay right here, Girl, don't be scared of me, Give you sex therapy, give you sex therapy. If I wanted to hear Marvin *e's "Sexual Healing", I'd just cue it up on my music player. I don't need a helium-sucking George Michael look-alike to rewrite it. Thicke's attempts at being romantic in this song fall completely flat. However, if he truly wants show his partner some romance, I have an idea. How about doing a little less bragging about his "super sperm" and a little more asking his dad to take down the naked poster of his wife hanging in the living room. Just a suggestion. I prefer my soul the way my cousin Dan likes his coffee: black and strong. Spin me some Barry White, Marvin *e, Anita Baker, Otis Redding, et al, and I'm a happy soul. Still, that doesn't mean I can't enjoy an occasional shrill R&B number like Michael Jackson's "Liberian Girl" or Prince's "The Most Beautiful Girl In The World". Hell, I can even stomach Color Me Badd's "I Wanna Sex You Up" once per decade. But "Sex Therapy"? Sorry, I won't be busting this Thicke. My wife got a chance to watch the song's video. She commented that Thicke may have nice teeth and eyes, but he sings higher than even she can – and "that is not a good thing". Hmm… I'm starting to think she'd almost prefer my singing over Thicke's. Almost.