07/05/07 by Garvar at 10:31pm EST

I have not updated the main page of this site for a while (due in part to the fact that nobody is actually supposed to be reading it for another two months) but oh well I feel like typing, okay?

Today's subject is: "Don't Cha".

If you recognize the name of today's subject, you probably have shitty taste in music and/or are too lazy to seek meaning in media. Whatever course you take, I am going to bitch about mainstream media for a bit by reviewing this song, by The Pussycat Dolls, as an example. According to the history tags at the bottom of this page I google'd, the song has been out for like two years, but it's still new enough to use as an example of how retarded North American culture has gotten.

So I've heard this song a couple times in the last few days (at work, meaning I was unable to avoid it). Anyway, I'm going to break it down to the best of my ability, patience, and conviction.

The song starts out with Busta Rhymes (a rap artist I'm pretty sure) mumbling unintelligeably and grunting various affirmations, and shortly after declares that he is going to illustrate for us, the audience, a scenario for whatever reason binds his motives. Here is the scenario he honours us with:

Ya see this get hot
Everytime I come through when I step up in the spot (are you ready)
Make the place sizzle like a summertime cookout
Prowl for the best chick
Yes I'm on the lookout (let's dance)

I'll interject at this point, simply because I want to summarize it before I become confused by Busta Rhyme's percieved ignorance toward the english language:

-Busta Rhymes has gone to some sort of gathering, allegedly a neighbourhood barbecue or perhaps something synonymous to it.
-Busta Rhymes is looking for attractive women to dance with.

That's simple enough. However, let's venture a little further into this little gathering:

Slow bangin shorty like a belly dancer with it
Smell good, pretty skin, so gangsta with it (ooh, baby)
No tricks only diamonds under my sleeve
Gimme tha number
But make sure you call before you leave

With respect to the first line...I'm not entirely sure what message he wants to convey. I think it has to do with midget hookers, but for my mind's sake I'm going to pretend it isn't even there. The following continues to be incoherent, but at least can be deciphered on a per-line basis. Busta Rhymes seems to have found his mark (an attractive woman) and grabs her attention by his illustrating to her that he is wealthy. From there, he requests this woman's phone number, but wishes for her to phone him instead, despite actually hinting that she indeed knows his phone number.

This is when the story behind the song changes perspectives to the woman Busta Rhymes has exchanged phone numbers with. This also introduces a new element to the story that begs a question about Busta Rhymes' marital status:

I know you like me (I know you like me)
I know you do (I know you do)
That's why whenever I come around
She's all over you
And I know you want it (I know you want it)
It's easy to see (it's easy to see)
And in the back of your mind
I know you should be on with me

It would appear, from this excerpt, that Busta Rhymes is already involved in a romantic relationship with another woman. The female protagonist here suggests that she is able to understand Busta Rhymes' feelings and knows he desires a relationship with her.

This is the scenario we have been given. On to the chorus:

Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me
Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me
Don't cha
Don't cha
Don't you wish your girlfriend was raw like me
Don't you wish your girlfriend was fun like me
Don't cha (haah aah)
Don't cha

This is really the only portion of the song that any pedestrian listener (myself included) will remember. However, I have to argue, it is shallow and inane. The chorus to this song clearly makes the allegation that the individual in question is only looking for lust in a relationship, seeks multiple partners despite marital status, and has already sought a relationship with someone he is clearly incompatible with, just to meet some sort of status quo.

The next verse of lyrics attempts to alleviate the shallowness of the chorus' allegations by giving us a light at the end of the tunnel that Busta Rhymes may be having second thoughts about seeking other partners despite being in a binding relationship. However, it still leaves the impression that he considers this new girl as a casual fuck-buddy. Well played, sir. Cue the garbage-minded chorus again and we'll move to the next verse. It's a doozy.

I've decided to spare the lyrics for this next segment, as it's fairly repulsive, egotistical, and even more stupid than the song has been thus far. However, it leads us to a risque scene in which Busta Rhymes and this female protagonist are spending some quality time together. And I do mean together. Ironically, at the end of the verse, it leaves Busta Rhymes stating that he wished this girl, as well has his current girlfriend, would both consent to having a threesome with him. Okay, you're rich, you're a player, you're horny, whatever. That's fine. However, the song takes a completely counter-intuitive U-turn into the next verse:

See, I know she loves you (I know she loves you)
I understand (I understand)
I'd probably be just as crazy about you
If you were my own man
Maybe next lifetime (maybe next lifetime)
Possibly (possibly)
Until then, oh friend your secret is
Safe with me

While it seems to be the climax (not a pun) of the story by reaching the resolution to this scenario's problem, it's completely anti-climactic in that the story's plot was heading in the completely opposite direction and came to this ending without even attempting any bridge of explanation whatsoever.

At any rate, this story, amassing four minutes and forty seconds of your life, has come to an end. After allegations that you are unfaithful, are unable to find a compatible partner, and seek only physical/sexual attractions in life, you are finally given reprieve when the song fades into peace.

Well, there you have it, my interperetation of the lyrics. Personally, I find them to be really fucking stupid. Not the most mentally stimulating of lyrics. But that's okay! I've heard songs that have dumb lyrics but are still, audibly, very pleasing (I'm looking at you, Mr. Townsend). So how about the joy of the music in this song? Well, I'll summarize:

It's approximately 6 seconds long. That's right, you have six seconds in which you hear a few drum beats, followed by a clap, then a couple more drum beats, then a much louder clap. This is repeated literally for the entirety of the song. You get the occasional hanging ambience note, and there are a few segments where a saxophone will play a few notes, but unlike the disappointment in this song, the saxophone does not hang around long enough to offer anything substantial (or even minute).

So, what about the video? Who gives a shit about the video, it's a fucking song. In case the world can't figure it out: "Music video" is an oxymoron. Music is about what you hear, not what you see - and I certainly don't give a flying fuck about music videos, even if they're for good music.

From what I can tell, the album this song was featured on has sold copies. In fact, many copies. In fact, far too many copies for the assumption that "the only people buying this album are those who have lost bets" to hold true. Meaning people have willingly, intentionally, purchased this drivel.

I understand that music is subjective, and all about your tastes. But

I feel some sort of latent desire to start a coalition against shitty music awakening within me when I have to hear this stuff. The fact that it exists isn't really what bothers me. The fact that people will willingly part with hard-earned money to listen to factory-ground thumping and bumping appalls me to some extent. But the fact that it has become famous, widespread, and played around the nation in droves so massive that you don't actually hear music any more (unless, of course, you keep actual music on your person at all times) is frustrating to say the least.

Mainstream media culture: a sure sign that we, as a species, are rotting into oblivion.

Don'tcha wish your girlfriend wasn't smart like me?
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a tart like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha
Don'tcha wish your girlfriend had no taste like me?
Don'tcha wish your girlfriend was a waste like me?
Don't cha
Don't cha


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